Lessons in Love
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: Maria finds herself burning with curiosity about the intimacies that exist between man and wife. She resolves never to reveal to her fiancé just how many gaps there are in her marital education - but when a mischievous Georg offers to turn their weekly meetings about the children into weekly lessons in the art of love, she discovers it's an offer she can't quite refuse...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: What can I say, I fancied writing some mindless deliciousness and had this idea floating around for a while - so why not! Rated T but for how long, who knows!**

With her hand poised hesitantly over the door handle and her heart thudding in her throat, Maria hurriedly scanned the great hall with eyes that she knew would instantly betray her mischief should anyone happen to look into them. Particularly her devilish fiancé, who seemed to be able to read her mind with little more than a heated glance and a knowing smile - that same slow, dangerous smile that had left her weak at the knees long before they'd ever confessed their feelings for one another. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd been caught up to no good - it was no secret that Maria was always finding herself in sticky situations that she couldn't talk her way out of. Sister Berthe had always remarked scathingly that God must've been having an _off day_ when he created Maria in all her catastrophic glory, for she was always where she shouldn't be, doing things she ought not to. She wondered what the disapproving nun would think of her current expedition and found herself blushing profusely at the very thought.

No, Maria was no stranger to finding herself in a pickle or two, but on this particular occasion it was of paramount importance that she remained undiscovered. It didn't bear thinking about what might happen if she failed in her attempts to be discreet.

But her fiancé was nowhere to be seen at this very moment. And neither were her charges, or the long list of chaperones that had arrived at the villa almost instantaneously after she and Georg had announced their engagement. Fleetingly she wondered where they all could've got to, but she wasn't about to let her curiosity distract her from utilising this rare moment of privacy.

With a gulp, she turned back to the large, imposing door, the heavy wood and intricate carvings mocking her imminent intrusion - as though they somehow knew why she was there and entirely disapproved of her intentions. Still she forged bravely on, grasping the handle with a resolve she didn't truly feel as she slipped inside the room undetected.

Relieved, she lent against the closed door and let out the breath she'd unknowingly been holding. She felt better already, taking comfort in the welcoming sight of the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases that adorned every wall, packed with novels and reading material the likes of which she could only have dreamt of browsing during her days as a postulant within the walls of Nonnberg.

Of course it was hardly the first time she'd been in the library - even as the governess, she'd been granted free access to this particular part of her mysterious employer's domain. Unlike the ballroom - she had been allowed to disturb this particular refuge as often as she'd liked from the moment of her arrival. And she'd certainly taken advantage of it during her time at the villa, often curling up in one of the plush armchairs with a classic novel on her days off, or scouring the shelves to find a suitable bedtime story for the younger children. But never had she come to the library in pursuit of the book that she was hoping to find during _this_ particular visit.

Hauling herself away from the door with her heart in her mouth, she approached the nearest bookcase with an air of caution, as though the books might suddenly jump out of their assigned places and smack her upside the head for her folly. As always, the reading material was meticulously ordered by topic and alphabet, a detail that had given Maria an insight into the kind of strategic and organised man Georg was when she had known him only as the stoic and brooding Captain Von Trapp. She found that this particular room of the house said a lot about his character - the decor, the kind of books he read, the detailed organisation - and she'd often found herself coming to the library in an attempt to make sense of the curious man behind the mask.

"Non-fiction... non-fiction..." she muttered to herself, her brow creased in concentration as she browsed the spines of the leather bound books, only to discover the likes of _Descartes, Kant_ and _Locke_ amongst the authors. Well, she'd found non-fiction easily enough but philosophy wouldn't help her much here - it was biology she needed.

Scurrying to the next shelf before she lost her nerve, she found what she was looking for almost instantly. When she'd first convinced herself to undertake this brave task, she hadn't quite been sure of the kind of material she'd need to find, assuming that she'd have to awkwardly leaf through the pages of some dense medical textbook until she discovered the correct section. But she was elated and somewhat scandalised to discover a book entirely dedicated to the purpose tucked away in the furthest corner of the shelf covered in dust: _An Illustrated Encyclopaedia on the Facts of Life by a Dr. Morris Gleitzmann._

Running a shaking finger down the withered spine of the book, she snatched it greedily from its place and clutched it as though it were her lifeblood, drinking in the sight of the plain, tattered cover as if it were the most beautifully illustrated page she'd ever seen. Turning the encyclopaedia over in her hands carefully, she read the blurb with burning curiosity as the blood pounded in her ears.

 _"An important contribution to the cause of sexual enlightenment featuring a unique and unprecedented series of diagrams and illustrations representing every aspect of sexuality."_

Feeling every bit like a child with her hand in the cookie jar, she peered around the room anxiously, half expecting the entire household to suddenly jump out from behind the furniture and catch her in the act. But she was very much alone and so she allowed the mysterious book to fall open in her palms - only to let out a little yelp when she was immediately confronted with a rather detailed diagrammatic illustration of.. of...

She suddenly dropped the publication as if it scorched her fingertips, her heart threatening to kick through her ribs. What had she been thinking - clearly she didn't have the faintest idea what she was doing and no amount of reading was going to help her become worldly and sophisticated in matters of the heart and body!

Breathing hard she gave a determined shake of her head. _Stop being so ridiculous!_ She chastised herself impatiently, _you are not a complete innocent - you know full well what goes where and how!_

It was true, she'd lived long enough as a curious young woman to understand the mechanics behind the miracle of life. And she'd spent enough hours in the arms of her new fiancé since their engagement to understand the burning need that would consume her after mere minutes of delectable kissing. But there were so many things she didn't yet know and she was almost desperate to find out ahead of the wedding night so that she had at least some idea of what to expect...

 _Well you're not going to find any answers with the book lying on the floor at your feet now, are you!_

With a self-deprecating little huff she shook herself out of her silliness and gathered her composure, retrieving the volume and scanning its contents with avid interest, her mouth agape. The words themselves didn't shock her as much as she'd expected, on the contrary their clinical and educational nature did very little to stimulate her imagination. But every time her eyes fell on an illustration - the diagram of the aroused male anatomy, the sketch of the female form anchored beneath her imposing lover - Georg's image would float to the forefront of her mind and liquid fire would unfurl and coil in her stomach until her cheeks burned with shame. Yes, she knew what went where well enough - but it was the _getting there_ that confounded her. _And how on earth did it end?_

"What have you got there?"

With an undignified screech, she dropped the book a second time, the volume creating a deafening thud as she clutched at her heart, entirely convinced that the organ was about to rip through her dress and join the encyclopaedia on the floor. How had she not noticed that she suddenly had company!

 _Oh lord, please don't let it be Georg, please oh please don't let it be Georg!_

But praying was a hopeless business in this case. She knew that deep baritone voice anywhere and when she finally mustered the courage to turn and face it's owner, sure enough it was to discover her Captain - leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed casually over the other, wearing a handsome black suit and a knowing smirk.

"Darling!" She trilled with false bravado, hoping the quake in her voice wouldn't entirely give her away, "how lovely to see you! What.. what are you doing here?"

The smirk never left his face as he observed her from the doorway, "I managed to give Max and the children the slip just long enough to come in search of my bride for some much needed solitude..." she gave an involuntary shudder as he made no attempt to prevent his eyes from travelling the length of her body appreciatively, "but I think the real question, Maria darling, is what are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm allowed to browse your library, am I not?" She bristled defensively, " _our_ library. Or is this another room in the house that I should kindly remember not to disturb?"

Her little barb only made him grin wider. She was always defiant when she was on the defensive, and when she was on the defensive, he knew that his vivacious little Fraulein was most likely up to something.

"Of course darling, you know full well that what's mine is yours and vice versa.." his eyes lingered dangerously on her form again, the double meaning of his words quite, clear even to an innocent like her, "which particular book were you searching for? Perhaps I can help you locate it."

Oh God, why couldn't she think of an appropriate title? All the books she'd read in her life and she couldn't think of a single blasted title to give him.

I...I..." she looked to the heavens for help, hoping against hope that he wouldn't spot the volume lying at her feet, "I was just looking for a copy of Snow White and the-"

"Well unless our porcelain skinned protagonist got into an _awful lot_ of mischief with those seven dwarfs, I doubt you'll find anything even remotely related to her tale in-" his eyes lowered to the book on the floor before flicking back up to her rosy face, a dangerous mixture of amusement and hunger lingering in his gaze, " _The Illustrated Encyclopaedia on the Facts of Life.._."

Maria swallowed hard.

"I must confess my darling Fraulein," he continued teasingly as he closed the library door behind him and took a calculated step towards her, looking very much like a tom cat on the prowl, "I find myself wondering whether you stumbled across that book entirely by accident or whether you came in here in pursuit of it..."

Georg of course knew the answer to his own question. His Maria could no more hide her intrigue than he could hide his burning attraction to her. The truth was, he found the combination of her unabashed sincerity and her restless curiosity almost unbearably arousing. When the two traits juxtaposed with one another, leaving her both hungrily curious and painfully shy about it - he took great delight in coaxing her enthusiasm out of her with very little effort.

"Entirely by accident..." she repeated back to him on an unconvincing whisper, all other words failing her as he took another dangerous step closer.

"Ah, I see," he mused, his eyes dancing with mischief as he claimed yet another step, "and was it the artful use of cohesion and semantics that had you so enthralled, my darling? Or much like Gretl with a fairytale, do you delight in such books merely for the _pictures_?"

She felt herself blushing profusely as the previously memorised illustrations of entwined limbs jumped to the forefront of her mind's eye. She wanted the ground to swallow her up - anything to be spared his merciless teasing.

She opened her mouth to retort, only to find that no words would come. He cocked a suggestive eyebrow in question, moving nearer still, until she found herself backing up against the bookcase, her head spinning.

"I...I..."

But he didn't give her a chance to formulate her excuse, for he suddenly closed the remaining gap between them and claimed her mouth with his own in a searing kiss that stole the breath from her lungs. Almost instantly, his hands were on her waist, pulling her flush against him and anchoring her body to his own as his mouth moved over hers hungrily.

And as quickly as it had begun, it was suddenly over - his lips leaving hers as he pulled back to look in her eyes with that same teasing smile.

"See anything that you particularly liked amongst today's chosen reading material, Maria?"

Willing her heart to stop hammering she gave a defeated roll of the eyes. It was no use feigning ignorance. Clearly the game was up.

"I was just looking for some answers to a few questions," she shrugged, "It's not a sin to be knowledgeable is it?"

"Knowledgeable?" He purred, "I had no idea you were so well versed on the topic of the birds and the bees..."

When her face fell at his little joke he chastised himself for being so thoughtless. He had to keep reminding himself that this was all very new to her and to make light of it was to do her an injustice.

"Forgive me darling, I didn't mean to tease, I..." he looked at her quizzically for a moment before speaking again - the previous mischief having suddenly disappeared from his face, "I don't wish to make you uncomfortable but.. well, what exactly _do_ you know about.. about the wedding night?"

Georg knew he needed to tread with caution in the next few minutes - not because his bride would be scandalised by the question but because she would shut herself off from him instantly if she felt as though he was ridiculing her in any way.

She only stared at him blankly in response, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I assume that if you didn't know before, then _that_ book-" he inclined his head towards the offending item a few feet away, "-has made it quite clear to you that during the act of love making the man - that's me - will enter the woman - that's definitely you - with his-"

"Yes!" she squeaked before he could say it, "yes, thank you Georg, I'm not entirely clueless! I know full well what goes where and how, I just.. I'm just curious to know more that's all."

His lips curled into another dangerous smile at her promising confession.

"Well I'm afraid you won't find many answers amongst those illustrations, aside from the obvious," he explained, "What exactly is it you'd like to know?"

She gave another nonchalant shrug as she tried unsuccessfully to appear dignified, "Nothing _specific_... I just, I just don't want to fall short.. you know.. to disappoint you when we.." she gestured between them with a shaking hand.

His heart instantly swelled with affection for her concerns.

"Oh Maria darling, you could _never_ disappoint me," he soothed, brushing the hair from her face, "can't you tell by the way we are already with one another? It will be beautiful and magical and everything we ever dreamed it would be, I can promise you that."

"Even so," she forged on bravely, "I _do_ have questions, Georg, I just - have no one to ask."

He pondered only for a moment, "well, can't you ask-"

"Don't say the Reverend Mother, I beg of you!" She huffed exasperatedly as he swallowed his own words. Of course, the Mother Abbess would've been a ridiculously suggestion - what had he been thinking!

"Well how about-"

"Not Frau Schmidt either. I'd die."

He gave a little laugh at her dramatisation and brushed her cheek gently with the back of his hand.

"Maria, you really shouldn't worry, you'll learn all there is to know after the wedding - and I'll be learning all about you in return," his eyes roamed over her face lovingly until she felt hot all over, "There's no need to be frightened, you can trust me."

"I _do_ trust you," she implored, nuzzling into his hand, "and I'm not frightened per se, I'm just.. just..."

"Just what?"

She sighed in frustration, refusing to meet his gaze as her cheeks coloured again, "I just want to know these things beforehand so that I can feel confident.. you know, so that I can... _please you_. When the time comes."

He couldn't quite mask his sharp intake of breath. Never had he anticipated that his convent sprung bride would be so eager not only to be with him, but to go out of her way to educate herself on what might bring him the most pleasure. It was enough to turn his blood hot.

"Well.. " he cleared his throat hoarsely, trying to calm his mutinous body, "why don't I tutor you?"

"Don't _poke fun_ at me Georg-"

"I'm not poking fun at you, I mean it!" He retorted with an edge of hurt in his voice, "Who better to answer all your questions than the man himself?" He grinned playfully, stepping back and spreading his arms wide as though presenting himself to his devoted audience, "When you come to my study each week to discuss the children's progress, we can discuss how to _make_ children instead."

The dangerous smile was back and he was ready to lean in and devour her mouth once again, snaking his arms tightly around her waist - but she fixed him with a look of complete and utter mortification that made him stop short.

"Don't worry my chaste Fraulein, it'll be all theory and no practice, I assure you," he chuckled with a reassuring wink, "I am, after all, nothing if not a gentleman!"

Her expression softened to one of playful cynicism, a teasing eyebrow raised skeptically as she observed him coyly.

"Well alright," he conceded sheepishly, "perhaps _some_ practice..."

He was so boyish in his mischief that she couldn't help but giggle and wrap her arms around his neck. Ever since they'd confessed their feelings for one another and announced their engagement, he had supported her over every hurdle and through every labyrinth she'd had to navigate, reassuring her with a kindness and patience that left her feeling emboldened and utterly cherished. He had managed to make her feel better already in the few short minutes since he'd discovered her amongst his books - perhaps confiding in him wouldn't be so mortifying after all. Wasn't he going to be the man with whom she would be sharing all this with? The very thought made her shudder with anticipation.

"What if I ask something silly?" She blurted before she could stop herself.

"There's no such thing as a silly question my love, the governess in you ought to know that by now! And besides, I might have questions for you too!"

"For me?" She breathed. What could _he_ possibly need to ask _her?_

"Of course!" He retorted, "I'm not a mind reader you know.."

But Maria begged to differ, for he chose that particular moment to place a tender kiss just behind her ear in a previously undiscovered place that made her pulse begin to race and her eyes flutter closed. On the contrary he seemed to be able to read her mind and body better than she ever could...

"What if.. what if you laugh at me?" She managed to whisper, the sensation of his warm lips grazing the skin of her neck making it difficult for her to form a coherent thought.

"I would _never_ laugh at you," he murmured against her pulse, pressing tender, suggestive kisses to the column of her throat, " _tease_ you perhaps.. but that's only because I so love to watch that delectable little flush painting your cheeks.."

And those were the last words she heard before he was pulling her flush against him again, all reason leaving her head as a firm hand caressed her jaw, her neck, and the other gripped her lower back, anchoring her to him and leaving her stomach burning on a slow simmer. Every excruciating inch of his powerful body, all skin and muscle and strength, was pressed against her and she knew in those moments that she would spend a lifetime learning from this man, just as he would spend the rest of his days learning from her in return.

" _Okay_ ," she managed to rasp when he finally gave her a chance to breathe, the heat palpitating fluidly between their bodies, "I'll...I'll do it."

He pulled back from her, the brief surprise in his eyes soon replaced by something dark that she was only just beginning to recognise as desire, his lips curling into a wickedly handsome smile.

" _Excellent,"_ he purred dangerously, his breath hot against her cheek, and for a brief moment she thought he was going to kiss her again. But much to her surprise he suddenly slipped from her arms, leaving her flustered and utterly bereft. Much to her chagrin, he appeared entirely unaffected by their little interlude and before she could beg him to come back to her, he was already marching halfway across the room, he's pristine shoes clicking monotonously against the wooden floor. When he reached the doorway he turned to face her with a perfect air of aristocratic sophistication - though the gleam in his eye entirely gave him away.

When he finally spoke the words rolled off his tongue like honey, leaving her heart in her throat.

"We'll start tomorrow, my Fraulein."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: some more mindless fluff for you. I'm having a lot of fun writing it but please do let me know if you're having fun reading it or if its too much and so on.**

* * *

Maria lay in bed, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling as the first rays of sunlight began to seep through the curtains. Sleep had completely evaded her, as expected - her head churning with the memory of her interlude in the study with a man she'd hardly recognised as her captain. One of the first things she'd discovered about Georg Von Trapp upon their acquaintance was that he was a complex and mysterious man - a man who'd infuriated her as the brooding and disagreeable authoritarian, and later intrigued her as the gallant naval hero, doting father and charming aristocrat. But upon falling in love with him, she'd soon discovered that there were many more layers to his intricate character that she hadn't yet been privy to: the boyish mischief-maker, the gentle and attentive fiancé, the affectionate beau.

And now - the hot-blooded rake.

It was no secret that Georg had once been a bit of a cad in his youth - a reputation that he'd been rather sheepish and somewhat embarrassed about whenever they had grazed the topic while getting to know one another better. He'd insisted many a time that he'd been entirely reformed by his first marriage and had never looked back since - but Maria had found herself feeling bizarrely.. _disappointed_ by the prospect. There was a deep, dark part of her that longed to meet the rogue he'd once been and she'd often felt as though she was missing out on a part of him that other women had been lucky enough to become acquainted with. She'd felt as though she was somehow different - too naive and too innocent to illicit any lustful thoughts in a man as experienced in the ways of the world as Captain Von Trapp. That was, until a week or so into their engagement when he'd uncharacteristically forgotten himself and allowed his chaste kisses and gentle caresses to grow deeper, more demanding, more insistent - to the point that even _she_ couldn't mistake the carnal hunger in his eyes. Whatever had been unleashed that day had only been burning brighter ever since.

She'd only caught a glimpse of that particular side of him once or twice before their engagement - during the intense heat of their shared ländler and in the smouldering look he'd given her during Edelweiss. Back then it had frightened her out of her wits, but _now_ \- now it simply turned her insides to liquid fire, leaving her almost desperate to familiarise herself not with Georg Von Trapp the hero, not with Georg Von Trapp the fiancé, but with Georg Von Trapp _the lover._

She'd scampered to the library the previous afternoon in search of the key that would further unlock this rather addictive side to him. It was a side that made her feel wanted, desirable, invincible... and she knew she'd stop at nothing to experience that particular euphoria over and over again. But she'd gotten more than she'd bargained for when her fiancé had caught her in the act and her cheeks burned once again as she remembered how he'd teased her mercilessly for her innocence.

The majority of the night had been spent tossing and turning as a result, her mind bouncing back and forth between cold dread and tingling anticipation for what was to come after the children's morning lessons. She was surely either a complete fool or an utter harlot for getting herself into such a predicament - what on earth must Georg think of her, the nervous and virginal innocent needing to be taught the very basics of intimacy between lovers.

Or perhaps he knew better. Perhaps he could see what she so desperately tried to hide: that underneath her naivety - _underneath her wimple_ , as it were - was a passionate young woman tormented by a burning need she could hardly understand. The very thought made her head spin.

Breakfast was hardly any easier - she could feel his eyes on her throughout the entire meal, barely perceptible hints of the affectionate yet dangerous smile pulling at the corners of his mouth while she squirmed restlessly under his scrutiny. A tiny part of her had rather hoped he'd forgotten about his little promise to her, but one look at the wicked fire dancing in his eyes left no doubt in her mind that he was thinking about it as much as she was - though perhaps for very different reasons.

"I trust I'll see you as normal this morning, Maria, to discuss the children's reading material?" He asked authoritatively from across the table, his voice low and full of an intent that only she seemed to recognise. He looked so proper and self assured - dressed in an impeccable dark suit and tie - that she hardly dared to acknowledge the suggestive lilt to his tone.

"Y..yes," she stammered, unable to meet his gaze under the watchful eyes of the army of chaperones sitting around the dining room. Uncle Max, the jovial Eberfelds and Georg's sour-faced cousin Bridget - all of whom had kindly offered to oversee their engagement and all of whom - except Bridget - were happy to turn a blind eye once in a while. Much to Maria's surprise, Baroness Eberfeld was the most mischievous of the lot and would often lean close to Maria and inform her of Georg's unchaperoned whereabouts in the house, before giving her an encouraging nudge and making herself scarce with a knowing chuckle.

The children's lessons after breakfast also took place as normal, save for Maria's thoughts slipping onto the prospect of her _own_ forbidden lesson soon to come, and Brigitta's continual observation that her face was all red. And before she knew it, before she'd had a chance to talk herself out of it - it was 11am and she was at his study door, knocking apprehensively as her heart thudded into her throat.

The door wrenched open almost instantly, revealing gleaming blue eyes and wicked dimples that rendered her entirely speechless.

" _On time_ , Fraulein?" Georg purred in mock disbelief, as he glanced at his watch nonchalantly, bearing the enticingly dark skin of his forearm against the starched white of his shirt cuff, "11am on the dot. That's surely a first!"

His lips curled into a dangerous smile then. _God,_ she wouldn't be able to hold her own for five minutes in this room if he continued to look at her like that. She'd stayed up half the night with her nose buried in that blasted encyclopaedia and yet she was a wreck of nerves before their sordid tutorial had even begun. She swallowed hard.

"Well, I didn't want to keep you waiting," she shrugged with false bravado as she squeezed past him in the doorway, careful not to touch him as she made her way into the room and hurried towards the window to gaze out onto the grounds and catch her breath. She could feel his eyes burning into her back as she moved, could hear his pristine shoes pivoting against the floorboards as he turned and closed the door behind him - and... was that the snick of the lock? The very thought left her trembling, but she already knew it wasn't from fear.

"And here you had me thinking you were simply eager to see me..." he teased from across the room, "now, why are you all the way over there?" He puzzled, "Don't I get a proper hello from my bride?"

Why was she so nervous? She often greeted him with affectionate kisses without batting an eyelid but for some reason this occasion felt completely different. Nevertheless, she dared herself to face him and she felt her nerves momentarily flutter when their eyes met - the expectant hum of anticipation hanging thick between them. Frozen to the spot, she watched him move towards her slowly, felt her skin prickle with heat where his strong hands grazed her waist, felt her breath catch when he gently tugged her closer, smelt his intoxicating scent of spiced cologne and masculinity - only to feel entirely bereft when he did nothing more than place a chaste kiss upon her left cheek and step away from her with an unaffected smile.

"Hello sweetheart. Please-" he gestured to the plush burgundy sofa near the fireplace, "take a seat - make yourself comfortable."

Awkwardly, she did as instructed, perching on the furniture as though it might devour her at any moment. When her eyes sought him again it was to find him shedding his jacket and throwing it over the back of his desk chair before loosening his tie-

"What are you doing!" She bleated before she could stop herself.

He froze mid-removal, staring at her blankly.

"I'm removing my jacket and this blasted noose from around my neck," he retorted with an amused smirk, "surely you didn't think I'm permanently sewn into them?"

She blushed beetroot and gave a self deprecating little moan, "I.. I've just never seen you without your jacket or tie before..."

"Believe it or not, they _do_ come off from time to time.." he chuckled dangerously, his eyes never leaving hers as he grasped the tie in his fist and tugged the garment slowly from its nestled place under his collar before throwing it on top of his jacket.

"That's better," he sighed, absentmindedly undoing the top button of his shirt and coming to join her on the sofa as she looked heavenward, trying her best to fix her eyes to anything but the bare skin of his throat.

"So.." he breathed confidently, leaning back against the furniture and flinging an arm casually atop the armrest as though they were sitting down to nothing more than a pleasant spot of tea, " _kissing_."

"Wh... _what_?" She startled, entirely taken aback by his unexpected declaration.

"Kissing." He confirmed bluntly, as though no further explanation was required, "the topic of our first tutorial..."

She stared at him blankly while he waited patiently for her to speak.

"Unless of course you've changed your mind," he continued breezily, leaning forward in his seat, "in which case we can forget all about it and-"

"No!" she crowed, surprised by just how loud the protest tore from her lungs, "no, it's just... " she bit on her lip, trying to find the words to convey her disappointment.

" _Just_?" He mused.

"Well... you've kissed me plenty of times Georg," she sighed impatiently, "surely I know _all about_ kissing!"

"Ah, but _that_ is where you're wrong Fraulein," he crooned as he leant toward her, the smattering of hair on his forearm grazing against the skin of her own, his proximity leaving her dizzy, "I've kissed you thoroughly, that's true enough - multiple times in fact. But I have never bestowed upon you the kind of kiss from which there is no turning back... " if his proximity made her dizzy, his words set her alight, "a kiss that you feel not just on your lips but throughout your entire body."

She gave an involuntary shudder, her eyes fixed to his slender fingers knitted casually between his knees. How could he bring it upon himself to speak such intimacies?

"Have you ever been kissed like _that_ before Maria?" He murmured into her ear, knowing full well what the answer would be.

The shake of her head was barely perceptible.

"I thought not.." he breathed, "but I daresay had it not been for that abbey of yours, you would've had many a young man waiting in line for you. It ought to be the very first thing you learn during our little meetings that not one man - young or old - could keep from desiring you..."

Maria's face burned as he spoke, "You embarrass me, Georg.." She whispered hoarsely to the floor.

"I don't mean to my darling, I assure you. You ought not to be embarrassed by your own appeal," he soothed, running a single index finger across her shaking hand, "but it's important that you know, your innocence and virtue is... _overwhelming_ at best."

Really? He certainly didn't seem overwhelmed.

"Bachelor dandies would most likely want to protect that innocence of yours, while roues and cads would most likely want to corrupt it..."

She was absolutely positive she'd been reduced to a pile of liquid heat on the floor.

"And which one are you?" She whispered with a boldness she didn't feel, wondering briefly if she was brave enough to hear the answer.

"Can't I be both?" he whispered against her jaw, and before she could will her heart to stop hammering, before she could prevent her head from spinning, she was being enveloped in his arms and he was capturing her lower lip between his teeth with a low hum of approval. Almost immediately the simmering heat in her belly ignited into full flame and her tongue began dancing with his own. She was mortified to discover that she was already panting into his mouth and just as her traitorous hands were about to grab fistfuls of his shirt for support, he released her.

Startled by the sudden loss of contact, her chest heaved as she tried to make sense of her body's reaction - but she was immediately knocked off her feet when she saw the state of her Captain. Gone was the starched aristocrat, replaced instead by a red-blooded male whose pupils were blown wide, whose hair had escaped onto his forehead, whose shirt was creased with the imprint of her body.. this was Georg Von Trapp the rake, through and through.

"Was that.. " she rasped, "the kind of kiss from which there is no turning-"

"No," he interrupted, "No, it wasn't. It was _nowhere near_... We must maintain at least a little decorum, lest we get carried away," he grinned mischievously but there was no mistaking the darkness churning in his eyes.

She was about to find her voice and ask how a kiss could possibly get any _more_ intense when he surprised her by clapping his hands together and launching from the sofa, pacing in front of her with determination, "now, where were we?" He muttered, as though they were discussing something as trivial as the weather, "ah yes.. you told me yesterday you know _what goes where_ \- as it were - but you're unsure of how one gets there, yes?"

She nodded, dumbstruck by the sudden change in his behaviour.

"Well we must start at the very beginning," he explained matter of factly, his hands clasped behind his back, "and _kissing_ is a very good place to start."

"Naturally," she replied with what she hoped was an air of sophistication, but the quiver to her voice gave her away. _Was_ kissing the very beginning? How did kissing erupt into full blown love making? She was dying to find out.

"As you know, darling, kisses can be chaste and light, or loving and tender," he continued, "but they can also be hungry and demanding.. ferocious and wild-"

"Wild?" She bleated under her breath. But he seemed not to hear her as his pacing grew more urgent. He almost appeared.. flustered all of sudden? She couldn't possibly fathom how a kiss could get much wilder than what she'd already experienced... so far his kisses had made her feel entirely weak at the knees.

"The right _kind_ of kiss can leave a man - and a woman for that matter - " he ran a hand through his hair and turned to face her, "almost unbearably aroused."

She was surely burning crimson now. She knew, thanks to a particular encyclopaedia, exactly what happened when a man became aroused and she was torn between wanting the ground to swallow her up and wanting more answers to her growing list of questions. But after mere seconds of intense silence, her curiosity won out.

"And..." she gulped, trying to mask her embarrassment, "and has that happened to.. to _you_?" She stammered, "when we've-" she gestured between them with a shaky hand, entirely unable to finish the sentence.

"Just _talking_ about it arouses me Maria.."

 _Oh dear God in Heaven._ Her eyes stung with the effort not to roam down his body and confirm whether he was telling the truth.

"And what's more, I know _you've_ felt it too," he declared, and in a flash he was next to her on the sofa again, his eyes burning into the side of her face, "am I right in thinking that, on occasion, when we've been kissing, you've felt hot all over?" he murmured, as the very things he was so vividly describing began to happen to her mutinous body, "that you've felt short of breath, felt your pulse racing..." _good Lord_ , he really _could_ read her mind, "that you've felt a burning ache, a pressure that needs alleviating. But you're unsure of how.."

She could only nod feebly again, unable to draw a single breath.

"Those are the first signs of desire my darling," he rasped, struggling for the first time to keep hold of his own composure, "They are natural and wonderful and only a fraction of what it will be like when we are married."

He made to bury his lips behind her ear then but her next question made him freeze in his tracks.

"Where do _you_ like to be kissed?"

He pulled back, his mouth agape, and she was utterly perplexed by the curious look upon his face.

"Perhaps that's a topic for another day.." he stammered.

"But we are on the topic of kissing are we not?" She pressed defiantly, her brows knitted in confusion, "And even an _innocent_ like me knows that kissing isn't reserved for the lips alone."

She felt rather than heard his sharp intake of breath. Why did he suddenly seem so ruffled?

"Anywhere you kissed me would be heavenly Maria... " his voice was bizarrely unlike his own.

"Yes," she surged on bravely, "but you must enjoy some places more than others..?"

His gaze could've burned right through her.

"Very well," he cleared his throat hoarsely, but still managed to speak with an air of confidence that she envied, "my collarbone. My chest.. my thighs."

 _His thighs?_ Good God! How was it possible that they were even having this conversation!

"And my..." he trailed off, leaving her burning with curiosity.

 _"Your?"_

He eyed her uneasily, "well, what about you?" He diverted the question, "Where do _you_ think you'd like to be kissed Maria?

She looked at him aghast, "Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

"I _did_ explain that I might have a few questions of my own," he implored, "and this is one of them. Please, I insist."

She merely shook her head hopelessly, her cheeks burning with a mixture of mortification and arousal.

"I tell you what," he grinned, "How about I tell you where _I_ might like to kiss you and you can nod if you believe you would enjoy it?"

A brief pause before she inclined her head in agreement.

"Good" He breathed, his heart beginning to pound, "your neck?" He asked, delighting in her barely perceptible nod.

"Your breasts?"

Her scandalised moan was hardly audible but it was more than enough to set his stomach alight as he watched her nod once again, the flush creeping down her throat.

"Your hips?" He rasped.

Another tight nod.

He wasn't sure if he dared say the next thing that was on his mind but she had said she wanted to learn and a rather selfish part of him was desperate to know the answer.

"Your.. womanhood?"

Her eyes squeezed tight shut in embarrassment but she hesitated for only a moment before she bravely nodded once more. Her eager response sent a dangerous rush of blood straight to his groin but he willed himself to calm down, to sooth her, to reassure her that there was no shame in what she desired - but he was knocked suddenly breathless when her eyes flew open to reveal not fear, but pure blue fire.

" _Kiss me,_ " she blurted, her eyes blown wide.

"What?" He asked stupidly, entirely unprepared for her bold response.

"I need you to kiss me," she implored, "ferociously, _wildly_ \- just as you described. I'm... I'm not afraid Georg," her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair, "please, show me.."

He hesitated for only a second before he launched at her with a growl of defeat, pushing her forcefully with the weight of his body until she found herself pinned beneath him against the furniture. His mouth moved frantically over hers and the sheer force of it made her realise that despite what she'd told him, she _was_ afraid - afraid of the sensations burning through her veins, afraid of what she might do in the face of such overwhelming feeling, afraid of her own body betraying her - but unmistakably aroused all the same.

He was like a man possessed and the effect she was evidently having on him made her feel dangerous and wild and unstoppable. _A kiss that you feel not just on your lips but throughout your entire body_ , he had said - and oh how she felt it now, all the way down to her toes and back up again. His strong hands were hot steel upon her wrists where he gripped her, his hips were a solid anchor between her thighs where he pinned her, his tongue was liquid fire in her mouth where he kissed her - and she was moaning, panting, begging, _writhing_ desperately beneath him - for what, she wasn't sure, but she'd be damned if he ever stopped.

All thoughts of her tutorial forgotten, her thigh found it's way around his waist and his lips tore from hers only to continue their frantic assault down the column of her throat, his mouth leaving a fiery path in its wake and -

A solid knock at the door made them immediately stop cold.

" _Georg!"_ Came Bridget's shrill voice from the other side of the wood, "I thought we agreed no locking the door!"

Muttering a series of curse words, Georg buried his face in Maria's neck to catch his breath. She could feel his heavy pants against her skin, could still feel his aroused body pressing into hers, and it was enough to leave her damning Bridget Von Trapp straight to hell for the interruption.

"You are to leave the door _ajar_ as discussed!" Bridget squawked, and after a second's pause, " _Georg!_ "

"Yes _alright_!" Georg bellowed, fixing Maria with an apologetic look before disentangling himself from his bride and muttering under his breath bitterly as he helped her to her feet.

Another insistent knock, "Georg!"

" _I'm coming_!" He growled over his shoulder, gently smoothing Maria's hair from her face with a reassuring smile before hurriedly fixing his tie and jacket back into place. The rush to make themselves decent had lasted no more than a minute or so and yet he somehow managed to look entirely impeccable once again, while Maria felt as though she would forever bear the physical signs of a woman who'd just committed the unholiest of sins. How could he possibly appear so unaffected when it was all she could do to stop her knees from knocking together? Evidently Georg Von Trapp the buttoned aristocrat was very much back in place.

With one last look of longing, he tore away from her and flew across the room, wrenching open the door to reveal a tight lipped and sinister middle aged woman who bore the look of someone who knew full well what they'd been up to.

"It's midday," Bridget sneered with disapproving eyes narrowed, leaning past Georg to fix Maria with a look of denigration, "lunch is soon to be served."

"My goodness, doesn't time just _fly_ ," Georg breezed, with a charming smile, entirely ignoring his cousin's scrutiny, "Maria darling," he threw over his shoulder, "would you care for some tea with jam and bread? I'm positively _starving_."

She didn't trust herself to speak and so she could do little else but hold her head high as she squeezed past them both and made her way towards the dining room on jellied legs, almost relieved to be out of harms way for the time being. Her head was positively spinning and she could hardly make sense of what had just come to pass between them. She seemed to have more questions now than she did when she'd first knocked on his study door!

It wasn't until she dared to meet Georg's eyes again some minutes later across the dining room table that she realised he was watching her with a hunger in his eyes that had very little to do with lunch.

* * *

 **A/N: what do you think? Should there be a second lesson?**

 **Thanks for all your previous reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

Georg shuddered as he poured himself a double measure of scotch with a slightly unsteady hand, the decanter clinking clumsily against the edge of the tumbler as the amber liquid sloshed into its rightful place. It was 10.30am for God's sake - far too early in the day for any respectable gentleman to be drinking! It was just as well then, that Georg didn't feel much like a respectable gentleman at all...

In fact, he hadn't felt so _un_ gentlemanly since the days long ago when he, Max and several other young hooligans used to plant their feet on solid ground after many tedious and lonesome weeks at sea. Restless and stimulated, they'd always blown off steam the only way they knew how: by wreaking havoc along the shores of whichever port they'd docked in.

Young, arrogant and somewhat stupid, he'd battled more so with his hazy memories than his conscience when it came to those hedonistic nights on dry land. He'd had nothing and no one to keep him in check, and after a youth filled with rules and regulations, he'd taken full advantage of the freedom a life at sea had granted him. But that had been twenty years ago. Since then he'd been a faithful husband and a doting father seven times over - a role he'd soon discovered was far more fulfilling than that of the young scoundrel with no responsibilities to his name. And now that he was a matured man - further into his forties than he'd ever care to admit - he'd long ago bid farewell to such impulsive adolescent urges.

Or so he'd thought...

Leaning back against the taught leather frame of his desk chair, he took a hearty swig of the amber nectar and welcomed the punishing burn as the liquid slid down his throat. He found that the liquor grounded him, steadied his nerves somewhat in the face of his unsettling thoughts. The truth was, he'd noticed a change in himself since that fateful day when he'd discovered his convent sprung bride in the library staring opened mouth at an illustration of the aroused male form. Something about the way her delicate fingers had clutched so firmly at the book, the way her chest had risen and fallen so rapidly in the moments when she'd thought she was alone, entirely unaware of his eyes watching her as she'd battled with a curiosity she didn't fully understand - it had caused a dangerous and startling shift deep within him. While his mind remained very much his own - strategic, meticulous, sharp as a tack - his body seemed to belong to a different man entirely. A man who reminded him very much of the young and hot-blooded cad he had once been many years ago.

At first he hadn't paid it much mind. He was still a _man_ in the rawest sense of the word after all - and a man in love. It was hardly a surprise that he would feel the stirrings of desire when thinking of things to come with his future wife. And when he'd promised to teach her about love, he'd been confident that the gentleman in him would prevent any inappropriate behaviour on his part. But that had been _before_ his fiancé had pulled him closer by the neck and begged him for her first ferocious kiss. And ever since then he'd been shocked to discover that the long-dormant cad seemed to be winning out against the well-established gentleman. It was just the irresistible combination of Maria's unabashed innocence and her frank curiosity - it made it almost impossible for him to resist teasing her, to resist stimulating her - and watching the aroused flush creep into her cheeks made him feel a deplorable and addictive swell of male pride. The cad was back indeed.

A sharp rap at the door had him rigid in his seat and he hurriedly shot his cuff so he could take a quick glance at his wristwatch. 10.45am. His heart began a slow and steady gallop in his chest. Surely Maria wasn't fifteen minutes _early_ this time? He hadn't even gotten the chance to give himself a good talking to before seeing her! Or perhaps it was Max, having somehow sniffed out the fact that an expensive bottle of scotch had been opened a few rooms away...

"Come in.." he called out in an unsteady voice quite unlike his own, only to feel a heavy sense of disgruntlement when it was Bridget who poked her head through the door.

"Oh, Bridget.. its you," he remarked coolly, settling back into his chair and reaching for another swig from his tumbler.

"Well don't sound too happy to see me, will you, cousin _dearest_!" Bridget retorted sarcastically, shimmying into the room with a haughty sniff. Immediately her gaze fell to the glass gripped in his hand and there was a tense pause before she raised a bemused eyebrow.

"It's apfelsaft.." Georg declared insolently, taking a brazen gulp to hide his smirk.

"Of course it is," his cousin retorted, the tiniest hint of amusement dancing behind her eyes, "perhaps we can treat the children to some? Or would I be correct in wagering that _your_ particular brand of apfelsaft isn't quite appropriate?"

He said nothing in his own defence and much to his surprise, they shared a conspiratorial smile. He knew however, that the pleasant moment between them wouldn't last long. It was clear that cousin Bridget had an ulterior motive. And sure enough...

"Speaking of _appropriate_ Georg-" She began with determination, but he instantly interrupted her with an exasperated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose impatiently.

"Not another lecture Bridget, I beg of you," he whined, "I'm a grown man! I'm well aware of the rules surrounding my engagement!"

"Nevertheless," she pressed matter of factly, "I'd be doing you both a disservice as your chaperone if I didn't come here to remind you to-"

"Keep the door ajar," he chorused mockingly, "I _know_!"

"Good," she retorted primly with a satisfied smile, "I won't need to repeat myself then! I shan't be far away..."

And with that she turned on her heels and made her way to the door, only to come to an abrupt halt when she nearly collided with someone on the other side.

"Oh, goodness, Maria!" Bridget cried, as Georg's ears immediately pricked, "I do apologise, I didn't see you there."

It took him less than half a second to scramble out of his seat and even less time to cross the length of the room, batting Bridget out of the way impatiently so that he could greet his bride with a welcoming smile. She looked like heaven itself, as always, and he was filled with a fiendish delight to see that she was already blushing at having been discovered in his doorway by their chaperone. _God_ , he needed to get her alone.

"Right!" He crowed, clapping his hands together with a crack of finality, "Well, it was nice of you to pop in Bridget!" There was a tense pause while he waited expectantly for his cousin to announce her leave but Bridget made no attempt to move and simply fixed him with a chastising stare.

"Remember Georg," she raised a disciplinary finger, "keep the-"

" _Yes yes yes_ , off you go now!" He crooned with an exaggerated wave of his hand, giving her a rather hefty push to the lower back that sent her careering out of the room. On instinct he immediately went to slam the door behind him, but it soon became apparent that his cousin wasn't going to let him off that easily. She was still watching him like a hawk from the hallway and he fixed her with the most sarcastic smile he could muster as he pushed the door to with exaggerated slowness - until there was only a mere few inches left between the jamb and the wood.

"Satisfied?" He barked through the gap.

"Immensely!" Came the terse reply, before Bridget's footsteps and low laughter could be heard retreating across the marble floor. Maria felt rather than heard Georg's frustrated growl before he spun around to face her with a heavy sigh.

"What was that about?" She asked, perplexed.

"Apparently our chaperones don't trust me to be an honourable man," he replied with a bitter laugh, "Bridget came to kindly remind me that we need to leave the door ajar."

Maria bit her lower lip apprehensively, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Maria?" He frowned in concern, "What is it?" When she didn't immediately reply he took a step closer, "darling?"

"Ohh.. it's just.. well.. maybe she's _right_ Georg!" Her hand flew to her hair as she began pacing in agitation.

"Who?" He asked stupidly, his brow knitting in confusion.

"Bridget!" She bleated in distress, "what we're doing, surely it's _inappropriate_! It's not proper! I... I don't think we should be doing it anymore!"

There. She'd said it. Her chest heaved as she waited for his response, the eerie silence stretching on as she twisted her fingers anxiously in front of her skirts. She could feel his blue eyes burning into her face, but she couldn't bring herself to meet them - if she did, he would surely be able to see right through her. He would be able to see that her concerns about propriety were nothing more than a complete and utter farce. The truth of the matter was, their first tutorial had left her stimulated in a way that was entirely unprecedented and unforeseen. She'd known very little about passion and hadn't anticipated that she might end up feeling so much more than just eager curiosity.

The better part of the last week had been spent in almost unbearable suffering; the long days wrought with yearning and the restless nights wrought with frustration. Shamefully, she'd spent the early hours clutching at her sordid encyclopaedia again under the sheets, only this time she hadn't been looking for answers, but rather, for further stimulation. She longed to learn more, longed to have him show her - but the fact of the matter was, he'd unearthed a bold and lustful side to her that she hardly recognised. She didn't trust herself. She was in dangerous territory. And as was her habit, she needed to run away from it as quickly as possible.

"You want us to stop?" Came his low murmur, but the new and sultry tendrils of his voice made it sound very little like a question. She kept her eyes glued to the floor resolutely as she nodded, but her heart leapt into her throat when she heard the slow and languid tap of his boots against the floorboards as he made his way towards her.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

His footsteps seemed to echo off the walls, stretching on forever, twisting her insides into knots - and she realised with panic that he'd already seen through her pathetic excuse. She was holding her breath, the blood pounding in her ears as she waited for the inevitable moment when he would close the gap between them and finally touch her. But all of a sudden his footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

"I don't think you want us to stop, Maria," he purred from mere feet away, his husky whisper making her shiver, "my encyclopaedia has been missing from its place on the shelf for the past week. Ah yes, my darling, don't think I didn't notice. And I don't think I need to hazard a guess as to where it might be..." the lazy notes of his voice seeped into her ears and curled around her insides like the sweetest poison ivy, "A woman concerned by propriety surely would not take such _inappropriate_ material to bed with her.."

If she was the helpless virgin then surely he was Zeus himself, corrupting her and enthralling her all at once with nought but his words.

"' _Proper_ ', in this room, means only that you do what feels good and right," he revealed confidently, "Does it not feel good and right when I touch you Maria?"

She could only moan by way of response.

"You must know, my darling," he breathed, "that after we are married, whenever we are alone, society's rules are to be completely ignored. There _are_ no rules, when it comes to you and I. I am yours to explore and you may do so in whichever way will bring you the most satisfaction. If you truly wish to stop, if you really want to leave this room, you are absolutely free to do so. But if you must leave, then leave in the knowledge that there is no shame in what you are feeling."

Still she couldn't tear her eyes from the floor, but with great difficulty she managed to find her voice, as alien to her as it sounded, "How.. how do you _know_ what I'm feeling?"

"Because I am feeling it too," he divulged on a whisper, "overwhelmingly so. And if it wasn't for that _blasted_ open door I'd be taking you in my arms and doing all the things to you that society would normally forbid."

She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't look at him lest she gave herself away, and yet his words were so stirring that her eyes lock with his entirely on their own accord. Almost immediately, her breath hitched in her throat. From the confident and eloquent ease with which he had delivered his speech, she'd assumed that he would appear as distinguished and composed as always. But upon looking at him, she saw that the exact opposite held true: his eyes were burning ferociously, his entire body was rigid with tension, and his fists were balled like rocks at his sides - as though he wanted nothing more than to devour her while knowing full well that he couldn't lay a finger on her. It was in those moments of intense and impenetrable silence that she finally admitted it to herself: both of them knew she wasn't going _anywhere._

"What did the book tell you about a man's sexual excitement, Maria?" Georg asked on a murmur, startling her with his sudden change in tactic.

"Wh.. _what_?"

"What did it tell you?" He repeated patiently as his eyes bore into hers.

She swallowed hard. Surely he didn't expect her to say it out loud?!

"Maria..."

"That your.. " she stammered, "that you would um.. that your-"

"That I would grow erect the more aroused I became?"

She could've died right there in his study from the mortification, but her painfully obvious blush apparently wasn't enough to make him to relent.

"And did it tell you what would happen to your own body at the height of sexual arousal?" He pressed, his voice thick with something she couldn't quite place. She shook her head mutely, unable to form words through the racing of her pulse. She'd been too busy looking at the _male_ pages to read up on what might happen to the female...

He grinned wickedly, "Then here begins today's lesson."

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

"On what?" She bleated, despite herself.

"Erogenous zones," was his proud declaration as his devilish eyes gleamed, his hands coming to rest casually on his slender hips, "The parts of your body on which I shall be bestowing all of my attentions in order to leave you raw with need."

 _Oh God._ The way his eyes roamed languidly over her figure while he spoke was only subtle - but it made her feel as exposed as one of those girls in the classic paintings with their breasts on display and their faces contorted in anguished ecstasy. Would she ever feel like his equal when it came to seduction?

Before she could close her gaping mouth, he gestured silently for her to take her custom seat on the sofa and she tried her best to make herself comfortable while she waited for the inevitable moment when he would sit beside her, all heat and muscle and _man_. She watched, mesmerised, as again he removed his jacket and tie, rolling the starched white sleeves of his shirt up his forearms with long fingers, the subtle muscles flexing under the skin as he did so. Her entire body prickled with anticipation, but much to her surprise, instead of joining her on the sofa he made his way behind his desk and settled into the leather chair behind it, leaning back and knitting his fingers together in front of him as he observed her.

"You're.. you're not going to sit with me?" She asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.

"I best not," he replied gravely, jutting his chin towards the open door by way of an explanation. Almost immediately, Maria felt the disappointment sink low in her belly. How had he so successfully turned the situation on its head? Mere minutes ago, she'd been hellbent on putting an end to these little rendezvous and yet here she sat, eager and waiting, already resenting the distance between them.

"Now Fraulein," he began quietly, his eyes never leaving hers, "As I taught you last week, kissing and touching can be very arousing for both parties."

As if she needed reminding! She could already feel her cheeks burning crimson from the memory of his skilful tongue and his body enveloping hers in the very place she was currently sitting.

"But it is not just the _type_ of kiss or touch that can reduce you to such a state of need," he continued, "it is also _where_ such kisses and touches are bestowed. I would love nothing more than to show you, but I'm afraid I will have to settle for _telling_ you..." he glanced bitterly towards the open door again before fixing his darkened eyes to her face once more. She felt as though his look alone would make her burst into flames.

"When we are free to do as we please, Maria, I am going to bring you to the heights of arousal by paying special attention to these sensitive places," his deep voice was like the most sensual music as he described with startling vividness what he longed to do to her, "I'm going to kiss and touch your neck before moving down your collarbone. I'm going to taste the skin of your bare breasts and run my tongue over the rosy peaks I discover there. I'm going to graze my hand over your stomach, caress your silken thighs while you part them for me. And I'm going to stroke and taste you where you need the pleasure the most," she could tell by the way his voice was deepening that, despite his air of confidence, he was becoming very much affected by his own words, "I don't know if you know this Maria, but the best time to taste a woman is when she is at the heights of arousal. There is nothing quite like it."

He watched as her body betrayed the myriad of emotions she was evidently feeling. Hesitance, anxiety, desire, embarrassment, curiosity... He shouldn't have let his words run away with him. She was an innocent after all and he should be taking things slowly. But his desire was such that he wasn't sure he could rein it in enough to be the man she deserved. The cad was overruling the gentleman once again.

"How does that make you feel?" He asked, only to be met with a look of mortified anguish.

"Tell me, please," he pushed gently, "we cannot show each other and so we must use our words. I very much wish to know what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours," he smiled, "Please."

If she didn't know any better she might've thought he was begging. It was most unlike him. But if she was ever going to learn, then what he asked of her she must try to give. She took a deep breath.

"I feel.. Hot," she whispered, blushing deeply as she twisted her fingers in her lap, "I feel.. Feverish. Like I can't breathe."

Georg felt his chest suddenly constrict with anticipation. He had expected her to say that she felt overwhelmed, or confused, or curious. What he had _not_ expected, was for her to unknowingly start describing her arousal to him.

"What.. What else do you feel?" He whispered, knowing he was treading dangerously, but he was desperate to hear more, "you must tell me."

She looked heavenward, and took another shuddering breath that set his nerves alight.

"When you talk that way.. when you look at me like that.." She blushed even darker and his breath quickened waiting for her response, "I feel an ache.. A deep ache. And... Moisture..." She was crimson and his eyes were black with desire.

" _Where_.." He choked, his voice hoarse as he fought for control.

"Where we are to be joined.."

Georg was rendered momentarily speechless. Never in his entire life had words alone aroused him beyond all reason, and he had to fight hard to stifle the groan that threatened to escape him.

"That is nothing to be ashamed of, darling," he croaked when finally he found his voice, his fingernails biting into the wood of his armrests, "It is your body's preparation for our union. It is a beautiful and wonderful thing. My own body is..."

He hesitated, glancing at the open door wearily again before glancing back at her curiously. It seemed as though he were battling internally with himself over an idea he'd just formed, and her heart began galloping on a off-beat as she wondered what it might be. A flash of determination crossed his features then and she watched as wordlessly he pulled himself into a standing position and made his way round to the other side of his desk, his eyes trained on hers as he moved with deliberate slowness. The room seemed unbearably hot with the stirrings of desire and she held her breath as she tried to determine what he was about.

He came to a halt in front of his desk, leaning back against the mahogany frame with his arms crossed over his chest. From his position, his back was to the open door, and if anyone were to unexpectedly join them, the scene would look entirely innocent. But Maria realised, with shock, that it was anything but - for her mutinous eyes dared to travel down his body, coming to rest on the unmistakable evidence of his thoughts straining hard against the grey material of his trousers.

Her breath immediately caught in her throat. _Oh dear God in heaven_! He stood so brazenly, so casually, with no attempt to hide his arousal - and the implications left her burning low in stomach. It appeared that, despite the open door, he had found a way to show her after all.

"You see?" He rasped, his voice husky in his throat, "it is happening to me too, darling. There is no shame in it. Propriety, in our marriage bed, will be whatever we choose it to be."

She could see nothing but the detailed illustrations from the encyclopaedia burning in her mind's eye as she stared at what his trousers hid, could hear nothing but the roaring of the blood in her ears. She looked upon the conspicuous swell and marvelled at what might lay beneath the material - did he look anything like the images she had seen? she wondered. And suddenly she was gripped by a desire so bold, so daring, that she knew she should've fled the room when she'd had the chance.

"I wish to see it.." she whispered, before she could stop herself, unable to tear her eyes from the object of her fascination. Immediately his entire body went rigid, and she heard his sharp intake of breath as his arms fell to his sides.

"What?" came his stunned murmur.

"I want to see it, Georg."

She was vaguely aware of him gawping at her, but still she wouldn't meet his eye, for if she did, she would surely come to her senses. And at this particular moment in time, she didn't _want_ to come to her senses.

" _Look at me_ ," he commanded suddenly, and she knew he was searching for answers, wanting to be sure that she wouldn't regret her request. With bold determination, she complied, staring up at him from beneath heavy lashes. His irises were black with anticipation and his chest heaved slightly, but the look she had given him must've eradicated all doubt, for he deftly reached for his belt buckle without further hesitation.

Her heart hammered in her throat as she watched him slowly pulling the shorter end of the leather free of his trouser loops with one hand, flicking the metal needle with the other, before pulling the buckle free. The belt hung open from his hips and he stood momentarily still, watching her closely, as though giving her a moment to reconsider. The look in his eyes turned her blood hot and when she made no protest, his long fingers reached for the button at his waist and-

" _Georg!"_ Came Baroness Eberfeld's sudden hiss from just beyond gap in the door, "Georg, are you in there?"

Immediately Georg froze and Maria's eye blew wide as she looked at him in alarm. But he held a hurried finger to his lips, urging her to stay silent as he stood stock still. As luck would have it, his desk, and his position in front of it, blocked any view of what he'd been about to do.

"What is it, Emilia?" He called out politely over his shoulder, the perfect epitome of breezy sophistication. Before Maria had even had a chance to compose herself, Baroness Eberfeld popped her head through the gap in the door. Maria wondered fleetingly if her burning face gave anything away, but the baroness seemed entirely oblivious to the scene she'd interrupted.

"Bridget is on her way to bring your hour to an early close!" She gushed conspiringly, looking back over her shoulder with a sense of urgency, "I'm going to... _delay_ her arrival," the mischievous glint in her eye was unmistakable, "You have five minutes! It's all I can give you!"

And with that, she gave a hearty wink before pulling the door firmly shut, leaving the couple to stare after her in complete astonishment. They shared an amused laugh then at the absurdity of the interruption, which served to break the unbearable tension - but when their eyes met once again the laughter died instantly, replaced instead with the low hum of expectant desire. _They were finally alone..._

Georg moved first, charging towards her like an caged animal set free, and mere milliseconds later she flung herself from the sofa, wrapping her arms around his neck as their bodies collided. She couldn't contain her sob of relief as lips and tongues crashed together frantically and her insides turned to liquid fire as their hands gripped at one another's bodies in desperation.

All reason left her head as two firm hands grasped her shoulders, pushing her firmly up against the nearby bookcase as he anchored her against it with his strength, the buckle of his loosened belt digging into her upper thigh. He caressed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, his thumbs skimming greedily across her nipples where the skin tightened from need. Every excruciating inch of his powerful body possessed her in a way that left her feeling utterly fulfilled and yet entirely bereft. She needed everything and nothing all at once. She was both innocent and wanton, both corrupted and yet untouched. _It wasn't enough._ But they had mere minutes to spare before it would all come to a screeching halt and so she gripped at him as though he were her very lifeblood.

And then, all too soon, it was over, and he was slipping from her needy embrace with a growl of reluctance. _Surely_ they hadn't been ravishing each other for the full five minutes already? But sure enough, the unwelcome tap of Bridget's high society heels could be heard hurriedly approaching - and Maria wondered how she could possibly last another _second_ , let alone another week, before she felt her Captain's touch again.

* * *

 **A/N: more simple mind candy for you. Was it too much? too little? let me know your thoughts! And if you have any particular requests for what Maria ought to learn next, do let me know. I may just write about it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: thanks so much for all your amazing reviews! And I must say, judging by some of the suggestions I'm thrilled to discover you're all as filthy minded as I am! ;) I hope you enjoy this next one. I'm probably going to have to change the rating to an M, if not in this chapter then definitely the next.**

* * *

Georg sidled up to the balustrade and rested the heels of his palms against the smooth stone, taking a deep breath as he looked out onto the lake in front of him. It was a beautiful late summer's day - a gentle breeze caressed his face and two swans in flight chose that particular moment to skim gracefully across the mirrored surface of the water. Birds were chirping happily in the trees above him and the sun was low in the cloudless sky. But despite the idyllic scene, Georg felt completely and utterly restless.

In exactly one hour, it would be time for his weekly meeting with Maria again, and the thought left him with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It would bode well for him if his uneasiness could be attributed to the fact that he was worried about propriety - but being the inexcusable scoundrel he'd recently become, he had to confess to himself that he didn't give a _damn_ about keeping his hands off Maria. He'd learnt rather quickly that his bride was far from afraid of him, and her bold request to see his arousal during their last encounter had entirely knocked him off his feet. With the worry of scaring her almost completely eradicated, there was nothing to stop the rake in him from desperately wanting to touch her again. Properly. Thoroughly. Possessively. And therein lay the problem: He couldn't do _any_ of those things because of a certain Bridget Von Trapp and her damned open door policy.

He'd spent the majority of the morning trying to clamp down on his desires, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to act on them with an ajar door and a snooping cousin - no matter how eager his bride-to-be was. He'd managed to get through breakfast well enough, but there was only so many heated glances from his fiancé that a hot-blooded man could take. She hadn't even realised she was doing it and yet it had left him squirming in his seat from need - and what was worse; he was pretty sure that Max had caught on to his discomfort, for the impresario had watched him from across the table like a hawk, a wicked smirk plastered across his face.

"The countryside is so restful isn't it," came the breezy voice of the man in question from somewhere behind his shoulder.

"Isn't it just," Georg grimaced sarcastically, shifting down onto his elbows against the balustrade as Max filled the space beside him, "pity I'm in no mood to enjoy it."

"Now what kind of talk's that?" Max retorted gleefully, taking evident delight in Georg's mood as he too gazed out onto the lake in admiration.

"I just have a few things on my mind, that's all," was Georg's bitter response.

"Ah I see," the impresario gave a curt nod of understanding, "Blue eyes and soft curves, by any chance?" Georg immediately stiffened. Was he really that obvious?

"Oh don't look so surprised," Max scoffed, "you couldn't cut the tension with a knife at the breakfast table! Or the dinner table.. or in _any_ room in which you and Maria are drooling all over each other for that matter!"

Georg gave a heavy sigh of defeat, "I'm just-"

"Grumpy? Sexually frustrated? Desperate?"

"I was going to say having a hard time coping with Bridget," he retorted with chagrin, "but thank you kindly Max, for your... _keen_ observations."

"You're very welcome!" His friend crowed smugly, rocking back and forth on his heels like a giddy child, "I also made another observation this morning that I think you'll take kindly to."

"Is that so," Came Georg's sarcastic retort, "and which observation is that?"

"Our dearest Bridget seems to have left the premises."

Almost immediately, Georg jolted ramrod straight, his head spinning to face Max so fast that the impresario thought it might turn a full 360 degrees.

"The baroness insisted after breakfast that she and Bridget needed to head into Salzburg without delay," Max explained nonchalantly, studying his fingernails with exaggerated boredom - clearly enjoying his moment of triumph, "Some kind of emergency in town apparently."

"What kind of emergency?!" Georg needled, eager for more information.

"The _fake kind_ , I should imagine," Max chuckled knowingly, "Something about a dress for Emilia's daughter needing urgent alternations, but the young fraulein Eberfeld is out of town and can't attend the fitting. According to Emilia, Bridget is the only person readily available who's of a similar size. So the baron carted them off into town at the earliest possible convenience."

Georg couldn't contain his incredulous snort and Max flashed him a conspiring grin. Having met the young fraulein Eberfeld on several occasions, both men knew that Bridget Von Trapp was considerably taller and wider... in fact, rather ironically, it was probably _Maria_ whose build was most similar to Fraulein Eberfeld's. Georg made a mental note to shower the scheming baroness with endless gifts upon her return.

"Won't be back until midday, or so I hear," Max continued breezily, "Emilia predicted they might experience some er.. _car trouble_ on the way back that might delay them."

Biting back a conspiring laugh, Georg tried his best to appear unaffected by this wonderful turn of events.

"Don't worry, I promised Bridget I'd keep an eye on you," the impresario continued casually, "But, as it so happens - I quite fancy a mid morning picnic. With the children. All the way on the other side of the lake. _Far away_. For an _entire hour_."

Georg swallowed hard, his heart beginning a slow gallop of anticipation in his chest, "that sounds like a... splendid idea."

"Yes, I _thought_ you might agree," Max smirked, rolling his moustache between his thumb and forefinger, "and I _also_ thought I might take a bottle of wine for the journey. From _your_ wine cellar of course."

" _Naturally,"_ Georg gritted with a roll of his eyes. It wasn't often that his charming sponge of a best friend had the upper hand over him and he decided he wasn't much enjoying the experience. But if there was any chance of ridding the villa of all their chaperones for an hour he would gladly be subjected to Max's unbearably triumphant smugness - and would hand over every bottle of wine in his possession.

Almost as if he'd read Georg's mind, Max added with exaggerated glee, "In fact, I think I might just keep hold of the cellar's key.."

"Ha!" Georg scoffed, "You'd like that wouldn't you!"

The impresario gave a nonchalant shrug, his eyes positively shining with victory, "Just about as much as you'd like some privacy with your fiancé..."

They eyed each other challengingly for a moment, like alpha males locked in a duel for territory, before Georg finally conceded defeat. Grumbling incoherent curse words and scowling like a teenager, he dug deep in his suit pocket for the key that would not only give Max unlimited access to his wine cellar, but would also unlock the shackles of restraint he and Maria had been forced to endure these last few weeks. It was a no brainer, even if he'd have to be forever subjected to the wicked gleam of triumph dancing in Max's eyes.

* * *

"I don't understand," Marta frowned in concentration at the addition and subtraction on the piece of paper in front of her, chewing the end of her pencil absentmindedly.

"It's easy, dummy," Kurt interjected before yelling in protest when Louisa gave him a gentle smack upside the head.

"Kurt," Maria chastised, "don't you remember when you first learned mathematics? It's a difficult subject to grasp at first. And Louisa, less corporal punishment if you please."

The girl gave her a sheepish grin and a shrug before begrudgingly turning back to her Shakespeare.

"I quite like maths," Friedrich declared proudly, "it's the same in every language."

"That's very poetic of you Friedrich," Maria replied, helping Marta with her sums while simultaneously assisting Gretl with a drawing of what appeared to be some kind of deformed horse.

"But it doesn't mean anything," Brigitta argued, "at least with literature, you can interpret several different meanings from the words, all of which are just as wonderful as the last."

Kurt snorted derisively, eliciting another smack from Louisa, and within seconds a verbal war had broken out amongst all seven of her charges.

"Children!" Maria yelled, clapping her hands together until they finally fell silent, "come now, the sooner you all settle down the sooner today's lessons will be over!"

That seemed to do the trick, for her mutinous little troop finally settled down with a few grumbles of apology. She heaved a sigh of relief, basking in the rare and welcoming peace and quiet. But her relaxation was short lived, for a mere thirty seconds later Georg came bursting through the door like a wild animal, chest heaving with excitement, making the entire room jump at the unexpected intrusion. He was practically teaming with anticipation and it would've been quite comical if it wasn't for the fact that Maria found herself completely baffled by his bizarre behaviour. Where on earth was the starched aristocrat she was so used to in company?

"Children," he smiled sweetly as seven pairs of eyes stared at him, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal your fraulein for a moment."

A chorus of ' _whats_ ' and ' _whys_ ' and general protests were all part of the din that he received by way of reply.

"But you're half an hour early father," Marta whined, eager for some more time with her soon-to-be new mother. There was a general murmur of agreement amongst the group and Maria took the opportunity to chance a glance at the clock on the wall. Marta's numeracy skills were evidently improving for she was correct - it was only 10.30am. She wouldn't normally leave the children to join their father for at least another 30 minutes, and a strange sense of curiosity began unfurling in her stomach as she wondered what mischief he could possibly be up to.

"Well if you really want another 30 minutes of mathematics and Shakespeare, I'll just have to tell Max to _cancel_ the brunch by the lake he's kindly decided to take you all on," Georg retorted with a playful smirk, an eyebrow raised in challenge as he crossed his arms and leant confidently against the door jamb.

The room erupted with cries of excitement as all seven children suddenly scrambled to their feet in a flurry of movement, babbling excitedly as they abandoned their learning materials and hastened towards the nursery door. Maria opened her mouth to tell them all to slow down but she was rendered immediately speechless when she caught the eye of the larger-than-life man standing in the doorway. He was staring at her with such carnal hunger in his eyes that she thought he might devour her at any moment. He didn't even flinch when his brood jostled past him in their eagerness to find their uncle, and her heart kickstarted in her ribs when she realised that, any second now, they would be alone. _The earthly maiden and Zeus himself._

Before she could even catch her breath the children were gone and Georg was charging across the room without so much as a single word, his eyes blazing as he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her hurriedly out of the door.

"Georg! What _on earth_?!"

But he responded only with a growl of determination as he drove them both forward like a man possessed - pulling her through the landing, down the stairs, across the hallway and finally into the sanctuary of his study. The door was barely closed behind them before he had her up against the wood, kissing her with a ferocity she hadn't yet experienced - and she found herself sinking into it willingly. His strong hands gripped her wrists and brought her arms high above her head, anchoring them firmly against the door so that he could press every inch of his solid body against hers. She could barely catch her breath, liquid fire curling low in her stomach as he licked hungrily into her mouth and rolled his hips against hers in a movement that made her knees threaten to buckle beneath her.

She panted involuntarily against his lips and he pulled away for the briefest of moments to let her catch her breath - but when her eyes met his, the remaining oxygen was momentarily robbed from her lungs. Never had she seen anything so frightening and yet so feverishly _arousing_ in her entire life. The man in front of her was hungry and wanton, his chest heaving as his face glowed with uninhibited desire. She wondered briefly where the rigid aristocrat had disappeared to, but then all rational thought left her head as his lips began their welcome assault once again - frantically moving over her mouth, her neck, her décolletage where the material of her blouse exposed a tantalising swathe of milky skin.

"What are you doing?" She rasped, the air around them thick with heat.

"Showing you what I could only _tell_ you last time," he growled against her throat, nipping the pulse he found thundering there.

"What about Bridg-"

"Gone," was the grunted response, as his tongue reached a place made of fire behind her ear, "everyone is out."

The realisation was both thrilling and terrifying but she didn't have time to dwell on it, for his long fingers began a dangerous descent from her wrists, down the inside of her forearms, past her elbows, dancing along the sensitive skin like silk and sandpaper all at once - until they came to rest at the neckline of her blouse. He toyed gently with the first button, rolling it between his fingers as he watched for her reaction.

"Can you feel it Maria?" he breathed, resting his forehead against hers as they shared the oxygen around them, "what I taught you about female arousal? Can you feel it?"

She looked to the floor, suddenly flushing with embarrassment. She couldn't deny it, she _could_ feel it all the way to her toes. She ached for him, her entire body was burning for him and she did nothing to stop it when his fingers finally began their languid journey down her chest, undoing each button one by one. With deliberate slowness, he parted the fabric, his eyes drifting lower appreciatively to hunger over the breasts that heaved in the confines of her bra, and instinctively she moved her arms to cover herself.

"Oh _nein, nein_ Maria," he whispered, gently moving her hands back to her sides, "you are _much_ too beautiful to hide away from me."

His words set her alight and she could do nothing but close her eyes against the combination of arousal and shame, welcoming those wonderful hands as they travelled up her ribcage, skimming along the underside of her undergarments. Georg gave a satisfied sigh at her reaction, his breath hot against her face as he slowly pushed the cups of her bra aside, exposing her breasts to the cool air.

She heard his appreciative groan and blushed profusely, but her self-consciousness lasted barely a moment before his strong hands suddenly engulfed her breasts, the warmth fuelling the flames lapping at her stomach. She gasped and let her head fall back against the door, writhing against the intoxicating sensation of his thumb stroking across a nipple. When he took the other rosy peak in his mouth, she thought she might combust, the wet heat of his swirling tongue making her grab at fistfuls of his hair for support.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her breast, his voice throaty with lust, "if it's too much.."

"Please _don't stop_ ," she begged, holding his head firmly to her chest where she gripped him, no longer caring if she sounded like a complete wanton. Much to her relief he gave another appreciative groan and continued his affectionate assault, pressing his whole body against her whilst he continued to suckle gently. Maria's stomach knotted yet again with arousal when she felt the evidence of his enthusiasm hard as steel against her, a reminder of what she still so desperately wanted to see. She moved her hips very slightly, enjoying the friction it created against the solid heat, and an overwhelming urge began pounding in her head, an urge so irresistible that she couldn't stop herself.

Acting only on bodily desire and burning curiosity, she moved a trembling hand down between their bodies and brushed her palm against his arousal, her face glowing with a combination of satisfaction and shame when his entire body jolted violently. But rather than welcome her unexpected touch, he gasped loudly and slipped from her arms instead, hurriedly putting some distance between them. His eyes were blown wide and he was panting as he looked at her, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. Her blood ran cold and she immediately mourned the loss of him.

"Did... did I do something wrong?" She stammered, her voice betraying her panic. Suddenly she was all too aware of her semi nakedness under the intensity of his gaze but she was far too stunned to cover herself.

"No! _God_ no!" He choked, "no, you did everything right. I just er... need a moment."

This time she didn't even try to stop her eyes from drifting down his body, a strong surge of desire coursing through her veins when they came to rest on his straining erection. His trousers did very little to hide the conspicuous shape and she could hardly believe she'd been so bold as to touch it. It was just that he was so tempting, and she'd found herself momentarily gripped by an impulse she couldn't control. With every passing moment in his arms, it seemed that she grew bolder, more daring, more eager, until all reason left her head entirely.

"Perhaps we er... better _talk_ about this first," he panted, "What happens next I mean.. when we're both this aroused."

She stared at him blankly.

"Today's tutorial.." came his gentle reminder.

" _Oh!_ Right.. yes of course." she replied in a fluster. If she was completely honest with herself, she'd forgotten all about their blasted tutorial.

"It's just that men - and women for that matter - can sometimes be driven solely by need," he explained, still panting slightly, "the truth is Maria I want you rather desperately, but I also want you to understand everything before we.. " he gestured between them with a shaking hand, "allow ourselves to get _carried away_."

She nodded mutely, doing her best to hide her disappointment. She knew all too well what he meant - had she not just lost control of her senses and grabbed the most intimate part of his body? What he must think of her! Feeling her heart sink slightly, she composed herself and began to right her dishevelled clothing.

"No don't," he demanded softly, taking her by surprise. She looked at him questioningly, her brows knitted in confusion.

"If I can't touch you, I at least want to _look_ at you," he explained on a murmur, his eyes roaming over her bare breasts, making her shiver.

"You.. you want me to stay like _this_?" She asked innocently, "While we talk?"

"Yes, my darling."

She knew him well enough to realise that it was not a request, but a command.

"Surely that's not approp-"

"Remember that propriety is whatever we want it to be, Maria," he purred dangerously, "You must allow me to tell you how incredibly beautiful and desirable you look at this very moment. If you would rather compose yourself then I will understand, but the truth is I am a selfish man. And I want nothing more than to look at your breathtaking body."

She quivered with longing as his eyes moved over her again and she could've sworn the swell in his trousers shifted exquisitely under the material. She'd touched him there for only a second, but the solid heat from his body still seared the palm of her trembling hand.

She took a shuddering breath, "You won't think me distasteful?"

"Quite the opposite Maria, I think you are the most arousing sight I've ever laid eyes on."

His words and his evident arousal filled her with a newfound confidence that she hardly dared to acknowledge, but still she hesitated.

"Would you think it distasteful if I were to remove _my_ shirt?" He asked playfully, the hint of a challenging smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

The question took her by surprise but the very thought set her body alight. Long before they'd ever confessed their feelings for one another, she'd often wondered what kind of body lay beneath that starched white shirt and rigid jacket of his. Broad shoulders, a slender waist and strong arms made for an imposing male figure, one that had intrigued her and intimidated her from the minute the ballroom doors had slammed open on her very first day at the villa. She hadn't been able to mask her intrigue then and she was finding it even more difficult to do so now. Could it be that she was now permitted to see the raw man behind the mask? Her heart began a slow gallop in her chest at the realisation.

When she dared to look at him again it was to discover that all humour had left his face, his eyes darkening as he watched her internal struggle.

"Would you like me to?" He whispered, his voice hoarse with anticipation.

Her nod was barely perceptible but she managed to hold his gaze despite the burning in her cheeks.

"Well then.." he murmured, as though no further words were needed, gesturing slowly for her to make herself comfortable on the sofa behind him.

The room was suddenly heavy with a new and dangerous charge, the sultry tones to his baritone voice giving her the last shred of courage she needed to wordlessly cross the room and sink down against the plush cushions, her blouse still parted and her breasts very much exposed where he'd moved her bra aside. The way his eyes followed her every move, his mouth parting in disbelief as she lay back gently against the pillows, made her feel more than ever like the bare breasted maidens in those stirring paintings.

His low groan was enough to eradicate any self doubt she might've felt in behaving so boldly. And then there was nothing - not the ghost of a whisper, not a single sound other than his shallow breathing as he stood in front of her and removed his jacket and tie - letting the pristine garments fall to the floor next to his polished shoes. Painfully slowly, as his gaze locked with hers, he reached for the top button of his shirt, popping it open with a spine-tingling snap of his fingers that left her blood roaring in her ears. The next button followed, then another... and another - until she was met with the intoxicating glimpse of dark skin and light curls where the material shifted against his torso. Deftly, his fingers continued their languid journey down the row of buttons until they reached his waist.

Her mind was a war zone of emotion as she watched him bunch the white material firmly in his fists and pull it free from his trousers, exposing a tantalising trail of hair that descended his abdomen and disappeared into his waistband. Making work of the final button and letting the garment slide from his shoulders, he finally stood bare chested before her - and her heart was in her mouth as she allowed her eyes to roam freely. She couldn't help but memorise every distinct understated abdominal muscle, the way his forearms flexed softly as his body tensed under her gaze, how the light glinted from his defined shoulders, the way the smattering of hair across the planes of his chest lit a path down his stomach and lower - drawing her gaze towards what still strained so conspicuously against his suit.

"Do I arouse you Maria?" His voice was low with desire and she could only moan by way of response, a heavy flush creeping down her chest. How could he speak so brazenly about the feelings that existed between them?

"When we are aching for each other this way, when we find that we can wait no longer - _this_ is when our bodies will be joined."

Her eyes flickered anxiously towards his groin and she swallowed hard - she couldn't quite fathom how something so powerful and imposing in nature could nestle inside her. He must've sensed her unease because he immediately went to reassure her, "the very first time it may cause... discomfort, but it will last only moments before giving way to a wonderful feeling you've never known before," his voice was tender and gentle, a direct contrast to the rigid tension in his stance, "Our bodies will work in harmony to experience more of this sensation. And it will grow more and more intense, more and more pleasurable. Until..."

" _Until..?"_ She implored, utterly enraptured by the picture he was painting with his words.

"Until we reach climax," he breathed, the word seeming to roll off his tongue like velvet, "I can't assign words to the physical feeling but I assure you it's extremely pleasurable."

" _How_ pleasurable?" She bleated, her mouth parting.

"The greatest, most intense and euphoric pleasure a human being can naturally experience..."

She felt as though the floor had bottomed out underneath her. She'd read about how babies were made - how the man's seed spilled into the woman to find the egg, but the encyclopaedia hadn't said much about the pleasures involved. She felt the skin around her nipples tighten with anticipation at the thought, and he must've noticed, for his eyes blackened and his tongue darted out to wet his lips like a wild animal spotting its prey.

"And this..this climax-" she pressed, unable to meet his gaze as her voice shook.

"Also known as an orgasm.."

"This.. _orgasm_.. " she repeated, feeling her core temperature sky rocket, "does it happen to the woman too?"

"Not if the man works only to bring _himself_ relief," came his low reply, "But that is not what I have planned for us, Maria. You have such passion and fire in you, and your body is capable of a pleasure you haven't even dreamt of yet. And quite honestly, I have my _own_ selfish reasons for wanting to bring you to orgasm."

She looked at him questioningly, watching as his fists balled at his sides as though he were trying desperately not to touch her. Or himself.

"Because just the _thought_ of watching you come apart while I'm inside you is enough to bring me close to climax."

His words sent her into a minor convulsion as they reached into her ears and grasped at a dark pool of liquid fire deep in her gut. She was surely flushing scarlet from her hairline to her breasts but she forged bravely on, her curiosity winning out over her embarrassment.

"How...how do our bodies work in harmony to get there?" She rasped through ragged breaths.

His eyes were suddenly black as night and something unidentifiable and dangerous shifted in his demeanour. Seconds of unbearable tension passed before he strode purposefully towards her, hooking his hands behind her knees and pulling until she was suddenly on her back, sinking into the plush cushions. All too quickly and yet not fast enough, he was climbing onto the sofa and sidling between her legs, her skirts bunching around them as arms of steel cradled her firmly. Her heart galloped on an off beat and she gasped aloud when she felt his arousal suddenly press intimately against her wet heat. His proximity, his scent, the heat of his bare skin - it was enough to turn her blood hot - and the contact was extraordinary, alleviating some of the pulsing ache even through their clothing.

 _"Like this,"_ he growled, and began shifting his hips in a languid rhythm against her. The effect was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through her body from the place where hard and soft were skimming against each other, her nipples brushing against the thatch of hair on his torso, leaving her in knots. She cried out helplessly, her head falling back and her eyes fluttering closed as she gripped his shoulders for dear life. His breathing was suddenly ragged against her and his lips sought hers, biting possessively at her mouth. The sensations were coming at her faster than she could absorb them and she found her own hips shifting back against him as she writhed desperately, eager for more of this incredible new pleasure. His needy groan almost undid her and she squirmed impatiently when he latched on to her breast with an eager tongue, suckling forcefully.

" _Georg,"_ she choked, her fingers fisting into knots in his hair, "we should stop shouldn't we."

He could only grunt in agreement but did nothing to halt his actions.

"But I don't _want_ to stop," she contradicted herself, her words coming out on strangled breaths.

Another grunt as he took the other rosy peak hungrily into his mouth.

"Do.. do we have to be _joined_?" She rasped suddenly, her breath hot in his ear.

"Hmm?"

"For me to... _achieve climax_?" She panted, her eyes squeezed tight shut against his administration, "Do you need to be.. inside me?"

He froze, his mouth agape as his eyes jerked up to meet hers. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? The possibility was enough to send a fresh wave of arousal straight to where their bodies gyrated against one another. Mutely, he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, "it can happen just with touch," he whispered, "or taste..." and suddenly the room was thick with an expectant tension, mixing with the heady combination of desire and heavy arousal already in the air. She said nothing, watching him through thick lashes as though hoping he would offer what she was silently asking of him.

"I need to hear you say it Maria," he commanded, "you must tell me what you want."

She hesitated for only a moment.

"Please," came her breathy response, " _please_ Georg, touch me."

* * *

 **A/N: well, there you have it. Not sure if I'm too happy with this update but let me know what you think. I couldn't possibly fit their uninterrupted interlude into one chapter so this little exchange will continue in the next update soon to come!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: A slightly quicker update to for you all. Thanks again for all the kind words! I must warn you this chapter is a pretty explicit M. I have changed the rating so you'll need to change your filters to see the story. Pretty impossible to teach Maria about climaxing without changing the rating!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Perhaps if Georg were a better man, he would've been able to put propriety first. Perhaps if he were a better man, he would've been able to stop himself from getting carried away. Perhaps if he were a better man, he wouldn't be pinning his bride-to-be beneath his hips and taking her diamond-hard nipples between his teeth at this very moment. But he _wasn't_ a better man. He was a complete and utter fiend, a cad through and through. And the sudden sound of his virgin bride begging to be touched for the very first time - her voice laced with uninhibited, needy desire - was enough to send any ounce of the gentleman in him down to the murky depths, never to be seen again.

"Please. _Please_ Georg, touch me."

It had been a long time since he'd desired a woman enough to want to touch her - to _really_ touch her. True, he'd been a rake in his youth but since his first marriage there'd only been one or two empty encounters, normally conceived in an alcoholic stupor, with women whose names and faces he had shamefully forgotten by morning. He hadn't sought these women out - rather, they'd approached him, and after several scotches it had seemed like a good idea to satiate his physical needs. But the encounters had only ever left him feeling more hollow, more empty, more desolate than before. After that, he'd simply preferred to be alone.

And it was in light of such recollections that he found himself almost shocked by the intensity of his need to _touch_ Maria. It had first hit him with startling force in the opening moments of the ländler, when she'd slipped her delicate fingers into his gloved palm and his heart had begun a steady gallop in his chest. He'd dismissed it as nothing more than the fiendish thrill of breaking societal protocol - but then she'd turned in his arms and their bodies had become intertwined, their faces mere inches apart, the air growing unbearably hot between them. And it was during that pivotal moment that he'd finally dared to acknowledge what he'd been feeling - the unmistakable desire to rip off his starched white gloves and lay his hands on her body.

But now, at this very moment, poised above his bride's lithe frame on the sofa in his study, the urge went far beyond the simplicities of desire. It was carnal, it was intrinsic - a burning, aching _, furious_ need to bring her more pleasure than she'd ever dreamed possible. Every inch of his skin prickled with the heat of it, his pulse thundered at the thought of what he would discover, his arousal ached painfully as he felt her writhe beneath him, lost to her bodily instincts. And he knew, before he'd even had a chance to acknowledge her request, that he was a goner.

" _Georg..."_ her pleading whimper pulled him from his stupor.

 _"Hush_ my darling," he soothed through panted breaths, stilling momentarily to try and make sense of his racing thoughts, "just let me think for a moment."

But her nimble fingers were raking through his hair and she was arching her breasts impatiently towards his mouth again, her head thrown back and her eyes heavy with lust. _Oh God_ if it wasn't the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. Was the Lord trying to test his resolve somehow? Was He trying to torment him for his years of sin? Surely there was only so much a mortal man could take! Just as he was contemplating whether he'd happily go straight to hell to make her happy, she suddenly lifted her head and their eyes immediately locked. What he saw in her gaze stole the breath from him. There was no fear, no trepidation, no hesitation - only a burning need and a fierce adoration meant for him, and him alone.

" _Please.."_ she whispered firmly, biting her lower lip.

He didn't need to be asked a third time. With a low groan of defeat he captured her mouth with his own, kneading her pert breasts beneath his palms and melting the length of his body to hers. Her thighs lay open beneath his pelvis, her calves wrapped around the backs of his knees, her fingernails raking down the bare skin of his back - and he could feel the intoxicating heat of her against his trousers where her skirts had bunched around them.

Through the blood roaring in his ears, he released a breast and let his palm skate lower, gripping her waist and pressing himself more firmly into her on his descent. Slower still, he allowed the same hand to travel down the curve of her clothed thigh, anchoring it around his waist before moving lower, lower, lower... following the contour of her calf until he found the hem of her skirt. Tentatively, he let his fingertips dance under the material, listening to her breath hitch as he reluctantly broke their frenzied kiss and pulled back to watch her. His entire body burned with anticipation for the moment when he would finally touch her and her eyes would darken with the discovery of new pleasure.

Achingly slowly, giving her every chance to change her mind, his fingers smoothed up the back of her calf while he inwardly cursed her stockings for entrapping the skin beneath. It mattered very little however, for soon enough he was tickling the back of her knee, skimming higher still, until his fingers grazed the delicate lace of her garter belt. And then, _finally_ , he could feel the velvety warmth of her inner thigh beneath his hand, his arousal twitching dangerously as he splayed his fingers against the silken skin.

He'd waited weeks for this, to be able to touch her where no other man had, and liquid fire erupted in his stomach when the damp heat of her undergarments - and the arousal they concealed - cupped perfectly into his gentle palm. She gasped at the sudden contact but shifted her hips closer to his touch almost instantly, making him burn with need. When he began to stroke firmly against the material, he could feel her slick and ready beneath it, and the realisation was almost enough to unearth him.

Suddenly her undergarments were no more than an inconvenience to him and he found he couldn't slow his actions as he hurriedly pushed the material aside, his eyes burning into hers with a ferocity he couldn't contain. He allowed his hand to hover for a moment, suspended mere centimetres from her arousal, feeling the heat of her body radiating from her. Once he crossed this threshold, there would be no going back, he knew - she would need him until the ache was finally relieved.

Maria's head pounded with anticipation, her blood already roaring from the languid pattern his skilful fingers had drawn up her inner thigh. She squirmed with a mixture of fear and excitement as his hand hung poised between her legs, his eyes burning a hole in her face. She was completely overwhelmed by the lusty needs of her body and yet, somehow, a tiny voice of logic rang out in her brain amidst the fog in those pivotal few moments. _This is your last chance_ , it said, _your last chance to stop what's about to happen._

But before she could utter a single word, before she could catch a single breath, a new sensation hit her, one that promised so much pleasure that she could barely contain herself. She cried out with joyous surprise as he gently stroked the tender flesh beneath his fingertips, tentatively exploring the moisture surrounding the place she ached the most. She watched his eyes blacken and heard him groan deeply at his new discovery.

"Oh _sweetheart_ ," his whole body seemed to tremble as he took a shuddering breath, "so _ready_ for me."

His words made her burn with mortification and arousal all at once but she could say nothing, she could think of nothing, she could scarcely draw breath - all her senses were attuned to his explorative touch as his fingers coaxed sensations from deep within her that were almost too exquisite to bear. He traced a path along her slickness, leaving no part of her untouched, before drawing small but insistent circles where the pleasure was the most intense. Within minutes, his administrations were no longer enough - and from somewhere beyond her lustful stupor, she became aware of a deep, throbbing ache inside her that was threatening to be her undoing if he didn't relieve it soon. He seemed to be avoiding the source of the ache altogether and before long she was clawing at his back, whimpering helplessly in a cloud of dazed pleasure and frustration. Her entire body was rigid with the strain, every fibre of her being fighting for something she didn't understand.

"What do you need darling," came his low murmur from somewhere far away, his voice laced with desire, "tell me what you need."

"I.. I can't.." she protested, her eyes squeezed tight shut and her head thrown back. She thought she knew what her body might need but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Yes you can," he coaxed, running his tongue over the closest nipple, eliciting a desperate cry from her, "trust what your body wants."

She hesitated for only a moment.

"Your fingers," she rasped, " _inside me."_

He shook his head against her breast, "not yet," he asserted firmly, "I want my manhood to be the first thing inside you."

The implication of his words sent a heady surge of arousal straight to where he caressed her - and then suddenly she was falling, crashing, tumbling, spinning headlong into a violent and blinding white light of pleasure that left her entire body convulsing with the sheer force of it. She could feel the vibration of his satisfied groan against her breast as she gripped him for dear life, entirely unable to silence the cries that tore from her own throat when his merciless fingers teased yet more contractions from her. It seemed to last forever, sending her into a deep abyss and to dizzying heights all at once - until finally, she felt herself begin to calm, the pounding in her chest and the throbbing in her stomach beginning to subside.

Time seemed to slow as she lay there limp as a feather, staring at the ceiling and panting through the blissful descent, Georg's face still resting in the valley between her breasts. She awaited the inevitable sense of shame that would no doubt accompany such an act, but she was surprised to find it did not come. She was met only with a deep satisfaction, a great sense of peace and a devoted adoration to the shirtless man who lay panting between her thighs.

"That," she crowed, running her fingers through his hair absentmindedly, "was..."

" _Was..?"_ He grinned up at her boyishly.

" _The greatest, most intense and euphoric pleasure a human being can naturally experience_..." she giggled, mimicking his previous description with amusing accuracy.

He gave a low chuckle and pecked her on the lips before lifting himself off her, pushing himself into an upright position next to her on the sofa. His face was a calm facade but she could see in an instant that his entire body was rigid - the planes of his chest were taught under the tanned skin and hair, and he was fidgeting slightly, breathing hard as though in discomfort. She watched him in fascination, entirely convinced that she'd never seen such a wondrous display of male perfection. It was then that she noticed the strain against the fabric of his trousers again and she marvelled at the fact that it hadn't seemed to wain in all the time that had passed since he'd had her pressed up against the door.

"Don't you.. um.. is it not..." she blushed, gesturing at him as she remembered the ache of frustration she'd felt only minutes ago, " _uncomfortable_?"

"Extremely," he gritted bitterly, and there was something about the subtle desperation in his tone that she found oddly stirring.

"Don't you need to..." she trailed off.

"Yes, I do. Rather desperately," he grunted, shifting his hips against the material of his trousers absentmindedly. She watched, fascinated, as the swell shifted enticingly under the fabric, "but I don't wish to overwhelm you darling. We've explored lots of new things today and there's plenty of time for more of that when we're married. And besides," he cleared his throat, "I can deal with this myself later."

"Wh.. what do you mean?" Her heart began a slow off-beat in her chest at the thought of what he might be suggesting. She could've sworn she saw his cheeks redden slightly.

"Well um, I.." he rubbed the back of his ear sheepishly, "I mean I can... bring _myself_ to climax. If necessary.."

Her breath caught strangely in her throat.

"You.. you do that?" She whispered.

"When I can no longer bare it, yes," he affirmed on a murmur, his eyes as black as coal, "Does that shock you?"

It _did_ shock her yes, but not in the way she expected. She suddenly felt rather hot all over, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"How...?"she murmured.

He hesistated for only a moment.

"By stroking myself," he confirmed without an ounce of shame, "Similarly to what I just did to you..."

The fact that she found this revelation both startling and arousing was an unsettling discovery.

"Isn't it a sin?" She squeaked.

He gave a guilty sigh and stroked his knuckles along her jawline affectionately, "It can be very difficult for a man to go long periods of time without sexual release," he explained, "I _do_ try but the truth is, I'm a passionate man - as you well know - and sometimes I just can't wait any longer."

His words were doing strange things to her insides, twisting and melting them into molten.

"And I realised long ago that I'd rather commit such an act to relieve the need than to lie with women I do not love," he gave a wistful smile, "Do you think less of me, darling?"

She could only shake her head mutely, barely able to think of anything besides the startling image of her starched and buttoned captain coming undone in his most private moments.

"Can you bare it now?" Her question came out on a strangled whisper.

"What?" His eyes suddenly turned to pure fire and the room seemed to hum again with the dangerous presence of desire. She had to look down at her hands, otherwise the flames in his gaze would be her undoing.

"You said you have to.. to _touch yourself_ when you can no longer bare it," she took a ragged breath, and then her mutinous eyes locked with his once again, "Can you bare it now?"

It was his turn to be rendered speechless by the implication of her words, but she bravely held his gaze as he regarded her with a heady mixture of astonishment and hunger. The shake of his head was barely perceptible, but it was enough to turn her blood hot, and suddenly the air around them was thick with anticipation.

Her heart was in her mouth.

"Then show me," she whispered.

She felt his sharp intake of breath deep in her bones.

"Maria, I'm not sure that-"

"Please," she said, "I want to learn how to bring you as much pleasure as you just brought me. It's no different. Why should you get to touch me and not the other way around?" She ran a daring hand down the forearm resting in his lap and felt him shudder beneath her touch, "I want to _see_ , Georg."

His stare could've melted her.

"You're sure?" He croaked, his eyes fluttering closed against the sensation of her hand as it wandered of its own accord delicately through the hair on his chest.

"Yes."

His eyes bore into hers for only a moment longer but the look she gave him must've been enough to convince him, for he leant back against the cushions and shifted his hips forward, exposing more of his lap to her.

"Take off my belt, Maria," he commanded, his voice low in his throat - but she found she could scarcely move, the blood roaring in her ears and her fingers trembling against the plane of his chest. A strong but reassuring hand glided up her forearm and closed gently around her wrist, guiding her touch downward - through the smattering of hair, along his ribs, over the understated abdominal muscles that quivered beneath her touch, through the trail of curls that led to his waistband - and finally bringing it to rest on the buckle of his belt.

He released her wrist and she took a moment to calm her fast-beating heart, dizzy with the knowledge that this was the closest she'd ever been to seeing the most intimate part of his body. With shaking fingers, she pulled the strap loose and freed the needle, mimicking the actions she'd watched him perform in their last lesson. Had it really been only a week ago that she'd begged to see his arousal? Had it only been a mere hour ago that she'd inadvertently touched that part of his body? So much seemed to have happened since then...

His low groan pulled her from her reverie and she realised, with a surge of adrenaline, that she'd unintentionally brushed against the swell of his groin. The sound unnerved her - did she really have the courage to go through with this? - but she forged bravely on, pulling the leather through the buckle and letting the belt hang open at his waist. Her pulse thundering in her throat, she stared, transfixed, at the shiny button of his trousers - so small and harmless, and yet so significant in her current task. Despite her curiosity, she couldn't bring herself to move and she felt a small wave of relief when his own hand took over, his fingers stroking along her knuckles before he deftly made work of the metal button. And then there was nothing, not even the ghost of a whisper, save for the stirring sound of his zip being pulled down achingly slowly. She held her breath, blood pounding in her head as she waited for the moment when she would finally _see_ him.

"Just know that this is what you do to me," he murmured, the tendrils of his voice coiling around her insides, "my desire for you is a wonderful and natural thing. Just for us."

She nodded silently, completely unable to do anything else. And then, finally, with a shift of fabric and a sharp intake of breath, he freed himself for her.

She could feel him watching for her reaction and she tried her best to appear composed - but it was no use. She knew that she was staring in avid fascination, she knew that she was panting, she knew that her mouth hung open - and yet she couldn't force herself to look away. He looked _nothing_ like the illustrations that were burned into her mind's eye - the detailed diagrams paled in comparison to this solid, real, flesh and blood man before her. Soft yet hard, enticing yet menacing, pure and yet sinful, straining towards the path of hair on his stomach in such a blatant display of arousal that the familiar ache began pounding in her pelvis again.

"You're shaking," he said regretfully, "Don't be frightened, love." He reached for her in an effort to sooth her.

"I'm not frightened," she trembled under his touch, unable to assign words to whatever it was she _was_ feeling. Whatever it was, it had very little to do with fear. He seemed to understand all too well however, for his eyes darkened once again and he settled back against the cushions, giving her a moment to take it all in. He looked so relaxed, so comfortable in his own skin, that she couldn't help but marvel at him.

"Do you like what you see, Maria?"

She felt herself redden with embarrassment but she nodded nonetheless. He wasn't going to make this easy - her assertive captain would try to embolden her, try to coax her out of her shell by asking her the most direct, the most intimate of questions - until she had no choice but to answer him. Only then would he ever acquiesce.

"Do you still want me to show you?" He asked firmly.

Another barely perceptible nod.

"Good," he breathed a sigh of honest relief, "I don't think I can bare it a second longer."

He took her hand and pressed it to his lips - and for one panicked moment she thought he was going to place her fingers on his arousal. But instead he pressed them to his heart and held her hand in place, splaying his own fingers over hers with reassuring warmth. She watched, completely awestruck, as he gripped himself firmly with his other hand and stroked upward, his head lolling back against the cushion and a whimper of relief escaping him. His heart was thundering under her palm as he repeated the movements, setting a steady rhythm against himself - and suddenly she couldn't recall ever feeling so painfully aroused in all her life.

In the very first weeks of their acquaintance, never could she have imagined that the stoic and disciplined Captain von Trapp might be capable of letting himself go so brazenly. And yet here he was, relinquishing all control in his need for hedonistic pleasure. She knew, even in her limited experience, that very few people would ever have seen him like this. Had he ever committed such an act in the privacy of the master bedroom when she'd been under his employ, she wondered? The lord knew she'd spent enough nights of her own waking up from stirring dreams in a hot sweat, her body yearning for something that she didn't understand. It was only now that she realised she had been yearning for _him_ , for release.

She could feel the faint muscles of his chest rippling under her splayed hand, could see the muscles of his thighs tightening against the fabric of his trousers as he began to move faster - his entire body tense with need.

"Kiss me," he blurted suddenly, panting from the exertion, and she complied instantly, moving entirely on instinct. The kiss was immediately demanding, his tongue invading her mouth in rhythm with the movements of his hand - and before long he was nipping at her throat and suckling at her breasts again with a near-frantic hunger, stroking himself harder. She wasn't sure what made her do it - perhaps it was the courage she found in closing her eyes, or perhaps she was invigorated by the obvious need with which he was caressing her - but suddenly her hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and it moved from the safety of his shoulder, down to his elbow, across the smattering of hairs on his rhythmic forearm, until her dainty fingers closed around his occupied fist.

He immediately jolted and froze, breaking their kiss and pulling back to look at her in disbelief. His eyes were wilder than she'd ever seen them.

"Are you okay?" She asked, concerned by his abrupt stop.

He looked as though he might devour her.

"You've driven me to _madness_ , Fraulein," He muttered, his eyes burning into hers. And before she could respond, he was bringing his hand out from under her own and closing her small fist around his arousal. She gasped aloud, shocked that something so solid and imposing could be so warm and satin soft to the touch. And then he was guiding her movements with his own, her fist encased in the strength of his hand as he showed her how to pleasure him. When she grew bold enough to continue alone, he gave a groan of longing and kissed her again, his hands sinking into her hair.

"Do you know what happens when I climax, Maria?" He panted against her lips, his breath hot against her face.

"Yes," she bleated, and she heard him sigh in relief. She'd read all about how the man's seed found its way inside a woman, but the knowledge did nothing to lessen her fascination - or her nerves about what was to come. It hardly mattered either way however, for they were far past the point of no return.

"I'm so _close_ ," he rasped, his eyes squeezed tight shut, "faster."

She acquiesced boldly, mimicking the stroking he'd showed her and feeling him thicken in her hand. His entire body was trembling now, his head thrown back and his brow etched in frustrated ecstasy, and she watched him in awe. His fists were balled like rocks at his sides, and on a surge of courage she didn't know she was capable of, she took hold of his wrist and guided his hand under her skirts - until his fingers made contact with the place where she burned slick and hot for him.

The oxygen was immediately robbed from her lungs when she heard him curse under his breath and then cry out helplessly, his hips jerking into her hand and his whole body wracking with spasms as he climaxed, hard. The entire thing was so primitive, so shocking, and yet she found herself almost frantic with need in those intense few moments. He immediately stilled her hand with his own and fell limp against the sofa, pulling her close as his chest heaved violently, gulping in lungfuls of air.

"I love you," he rasped through ragged breaths - and as she nuzzled against his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat, Maria couldn't quite believe what she'd just done - what _they'd_ just done. But the heady combination of arousal and triumph was more than enough to assuage any guilt she might've felt otherwise. The entire experience had uncovered a side to her that she'd never known to exist, gifting her with a new sense of empowerment over the capabilities of her mind and body. She, the mountain girl from a convent with hardly any experience of life outside of Nonnberg, had somehow managed to unearth the cool-headed and unflappable Captain von Trapp.

And all it had taken, was a little _confidence_.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **A/N: there you have it. Pure, mindless M-rating but I think it was about time! Perhaps it was too much, who knows. You do! So let me know what you think. Does Maria have any more lessons left in her before the wedding night? You tell me! I aim to please :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: thank you again for all your reviews and patience! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _His bare skin glistening with perspiration, the muscles of his back rippling under her fingernails in time with the movement of his hips, his legs strong as bands of steel between her thighs..._

 _"Maria.." his low moan as they share a hot, rasping breath. His fingers raking through her hair, the wet warmth of his mouth finding a breast._

 _"Maria my darling.."_

 _The desperation in his voice to fulfil her need, his own need. Her body working in harmony with his. Every nerve on fire for more of him. More of his touch. Pinned under every intoxicating inch of him._

 _"I love you my darling," his rough command in her ear, "come apart for me."_

 _A whispered plea. A desperate cry. A scorching white light..._

Maria awoke with a shout, gasping for breath, her body slick with perspiration and a newly familiar ache throbbing low in her body. The dreams were becoming more frequent, not to mention vivid and she secretly cursed himself for having awoken so soon. Ever since that morning a few days ago when Georg had touched her for the very first time, evoking sensations within her that she'd never dreamed her body could feel, drawing her first climax out of her with strong, skillful fingers - she'd been tormented with desperation both in consciousness and in sleep.

She'd been following Georg around the house like a lost puppy since that day, and at night he would follow her into her dreams - snapshots flashing through her subconscious, all of them more vivid than the last and all of them based on the intense memories of their last forbidden encounter. The taught planes of his chest as he strained for release, his strangled gasps, the feel of his spasms in her fist, his face contorted in anguished ecstasy. Four long days and four sleepless nights of these tortured recollections and she was already at breaking point. She simply couldn't take it anymore.

As if on autopilot, her hand moved of its own accord to the pulsing ache between her thighs, stroking experimentally against the unbearable pressure building there - just as Georg's skilled fingers had done only a few days ago. She shuddered violently at the immediate pleasure that spread through her body, shocked by just how good it felt. But it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. She needed _him_. She needed to feel his body against hers, needed to hear the silky tendrils of his voice coaxing her into ecstasy, needed to see the burning desire in his eyes to reassure her that what she was feeling was not only natural, but welcomed.

Like a woman possessed, she pulled the covers back without a moment's hesitation and scrambled out of bed, floating as if in a dream towards the door and out onto the landing. Her bare feet seemed to carry her without any instruction from her brain, her nightgown billowing around her ankles as she moved as silent as a ghost down the staircase, the stillness of the house buzzing in her ears.

The grandfather clock in the grand hallway marked 2.10am, but Maria was in no state to notice. As she moved with obvious intent, she had only one destination in mind: Georg's study. Where her memories of him were most vivid. Where his presence would be most felt, even if he wasn't there - which he almost certainly wouldn't be at this ungodly hour. But she would feel his presence there nonetheless, in the deep mahogany furniture, in the rich colour of the walls, in the heady smell of leather. Just being in the room that spoke so much of him, the room filled with so many intimate memories between them, would be a comfort to her in her current state of restlessness. She hadn't even considered what she might do if she were to find the study door locked - but in her somewhat hypnotic state of mind, she simply allowed her feet to continue carrying her forward, one impatient step at a time.

Despite her frantic hurry, she suddenly froze in her tracks, her feet rooted against the cool marble floor. The study door was only a few yards away but she was gripped with momentary paralysis by the halo of light she could see glowing around the doorframe. Was Georg awake after all? she wondered, her heart suddenly in her throat. The possibility made her feel as though she were being plunged into the ice cold waters of reality - here she was, standing in the middle of the hallway at 2am in nothing but her nightgown without so much as a single rational thought in her head. What on earth did she think she was doing, tiptoeing around the villa in the early hours of the morning! It was entirely inappropriate, entirely unbecoming - and all because she quite evidently lacked the self control needed to stay firmly where she belonged; tucked up in her virginal bed.

And yet - there was something so alluring about the golden hue of light casting its way out of the crack in the door and painting the shadows of the hallway. _So_ alluring in fact, that her mutinous body seemed to blow by all the warnings of her tormented mind and began to shuffle closer, as though it were under some sort of spell that drew her helplessly towards her fateful destination.

Time seemed to stand still as she made her approach, her footsteps as silent as a church mouse's - and she was suddenly confronted with the memory of when she'd first stumbled upon her brooding employer's ballroom. It had been an audacious intrusion on her part, but one that couldn't have been helped, due to her curious nature and complete inability to follow the rules. And she felt every bit the rebellious governess again now as she stepped up to the study door, peering through the small gap while curiosity bubbled in her gut.

Her heart gave a little jolt as she was greeted by the sight of her captain inside the room, handsome and brooding as ever - and she would've made herself known with a gentle knock, but she found herself so captivated by the mere image of him that she couldn't bring herself to move. He was bare chested, clad only in pyjama bottoms, with his thick hair askew - looking larger than life despite his dishevelled appearance. And he was pacing back and forth in agitation, his brow furrowed as he muttered to himself as though he were engaged in some kind of internal conflict. But it wasn't the gentle ripple of his torso, nor his tormented monologue that kept her firmly rooted to the spot. Rather, it was the fact that he was quite obviously _aroused_. The evidence was plain to see, fighting hard to escape the confines of his trousers as he paced the floor, and the realisation made it almost impossible for her to draw breath. It seemed that he was desperately trying to ignore it and she wondered whether this was the subject of his internal battle. Had she herself not woken every night since their last encounter, trying desperately to fight against her body's desires?

She watched him, utterly transfixed, knowing she shouldn't be invading his privacy like this but finding herself completely unable to look away. And then - quite without warning - Georg gave a strangled growl of defeat and threw himself down on the sofa, his brow knitted and his face flushed as he freed himself from his pyjamas and wrapped his fist around the source of his frustration.

Maria's hand flew to her mouth to mask her scandalised gasp and she felt her cheeks burn hot as she watched, scolding herself for the audacity of her intrusion. What on earth was she doing, loitering in the hallway in her nightgown and spying into rooms she had no business looking in! And yet she still made no move to look away from the scene in front of her, her oblivious fiancé working himself into a frenzy. Any other virgin bride would surely have been scared out of her wits and run for the hills without a moment's hesitation. So _why_ then, as she watched Georg's eyes flutter closed and his hand move in a heavy rhythm, did she find herself suddenly paralysed with arousal?

A low groan from her fiancé suddenly left her gripping the doorframe for support, and then she heard something so stirring that it robbed the remaining air from her lungs.

"Oh God, _Maria_..." Georg murmured to himself, entirely lost to his own fantasy. She didn't even hesitate, not for a single moment. Without so much as a conscious thought, her body followed his call - pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold into the soft glow of the study.

"I'm right here darling," she rasped, her heart thundering in her mouth, "I'm here."

Georg froze and bolted upright, his eyes snapping open in alarm before they landed on her and narrowed in confusion, as if he were trying to work out whether she was real or part of his private fantasy. She thought he might scramble to cover himself or at least make some sort of flustered excuse, but he did no such thing. Instead, his shocked expression gradually dissolved into one of knowing amusement, and his blue eyes danced dangerously as he slowly sank back against the cushions - exposing more of his lap to her in a flagrant invitation.

"Hello darling," he purred, his eyes as dark as the night sky outside as she struggled to tear her eyes away from his blatant arousal, "I missed you. I've been so out of my mind with desire that I haven't been able to sleep. I came here to clear my head but the memories... I just.." his gaze crawled down her body hungrily, making no apologies, "... _couldn't help myself_."

Could she really blame him? Hadn't she herself left the safety of her virginal bed to come in search of the stirring memories this room held? To assuage her arousal with the reminder of his presence? Only now that she was here, she could hardly unscramble her thoughts, and she merely stared at him in awe, her chest heaving and her cheeks flaming at his words.

"Please tell me you aren't just going to stand there watching me Maria," he taunted, the tendrils of his voice snaking into her ears and tightening around her lungs, "not now that I know what your touch feels like... a thousand times better than my own."

Georg could hardly believe his eyes. Years of training had given him the ability to feign a sense of worldly control, an air of unaffected nonchalance - and if he was honest with himself, he was not at all ashamed of what his fiancé had discovered him doing. He was a hot blooded man in his prime after all, and a man tormented by a constant proximity to his love without ever being able to take her for his own. It was inevitable that he would need to relieve his frustrations sooner or later. And if he thought that her touch the other day would've satiated his need, he would've been wrong.

But despite his lack of shame, he found himself nevertheless entirely knocked off balance by the sudden and unexpected presence of his bride. She looked like an angel, draped in white with cheeks flushed and blue eyes wide. Better than any fantasy. What stirred him the most however, was not the fact that she'd discovered him in a compromising situation - it was the fact that she hadn't fled from what she'd discovered. Instead, she had stepped boldly into the room, her mouth agape and her eyes flashing with a curious need.

Unlike the women he was used to in high society, his Maria wore her heart on her sleeve for him to see - and he was old enough and wise enough to recognise the desire churning in her eyes. He found the realisation both surprising and fiercely arousing. He shouldn't have expected any less from her really - after all, had she not responded bravely and ardently the other morning when she'd learned how to bring him to climax? She hadn't shied away from him then, so why should she now? He decided to take a chance.

"Come here," his voice was gentle, but it was a command nonetheless, a command that fired a warning like a flair straight to Maria's brain. He was acting very much like the captain she'd met when she'd first come to the villa - imposing, assertive, mysterious. And she realised, with a shudder, that she had willingly stepped into the lion's den. She had sailed into unchartered waters, she had leapt wholeheartedly into the fire - and now, she was powerless to turn back. The real question was, was _he_ the lion, or was _she_? _She'd_ been the one to seek him out in his private domain, _she'd_ been the one to follow his moans of longing, _she'd_ been the one to create the dangerous situation they now found themselves in - and if she was completely honest with herself, she felt empowered by the woman she was becoming.

But despite her boldness, she still stood rooted to the spot - her body and her mind in conflict with one another. His face was a mask of smouldering, primitive need that made it impossible for her to breathe, let alone think.

"At least close the door, darling," he murmured, "it wouldn't do for one of our chaperones to come in search of a midnight snack only to discover _this_ ," his eyes lowered to his lap before flicking back up to her face, the shadow of a mischievous grin pulling at his lips - but she hardly noticed, for her mutinous gaze had also descended and now remained firmly locked on his arousal. Without even trying to look away from him, she blindly groped behind her for the door handle, pushing at the wood until it gave a resounding click.

She heard his sharp intake of breath but his face remained composed, the contrast setting her nerves alight, "now. Won't you join me?" He patted the space next to him on the sofa, flashing her a smile she couldn't resist, but he must've sensed her hesitation for he immediately sought to put her mind at ease.

"Think of it like this, my darling," he purred, "We're simply bringing our next tutorial forward by a few days. Remember what I said - there is no shame between us. You still want to learn don't you?"

She nodded wordlessly, her heart kicking against her rib cage.

"Good," he gave one of his slow and dangerous smiles, his tone thick with desire, "What would you like tonight's topic to be?"

"I... I don't know," she managed to stammer. But she _did_ know. She'd known ever since their second tutorial all those weeks ago, when he'd said something so shocking and so arousing that she'd barely been able to breathe.

 _"I don't know if you know this Maria, but the best time to taste a woman is when she is at the heights of arousal. There is nothing quite like it."_

He'd only ever eluded to what men and women might do to each other with their mouths, and so she was unsure of what his stirring words had truly meant. And she'd been desperate to ask him about it ever since, though she'd never worked up the nerve. The truth was, the very thought of his tongue upon her was enough to make her head spin.

"I think you _do_ know Maria," he goaded dangerously, making her squirm with anticipation, "and I want to hear you ask for it. You asked, no - you _begged_ for my fingers inside you just the other morning, did you not? You felt no shame in asking then. And you can ask for what you want again now."

Oh God, why had she done that?! Why had she gone and begged him last time? She had always been far too outspoken, it was one of her worst faults. And it was true that in their last tutorial he had awoken something wild and free and untamed within her - something that had allowed her to assign words to what she'd desperately needed from him. Only now, she found herself utterly tongue tied once again by his imposing manner and salacious commands. Normally, she would've had an entire week to prepare for their next encounter, whereas now she was caught entirely off guard by those sparkling blue eyes and the sight of his unabashed arousal.

"Maria.." came the impatient and assertive rumble of his voice, "I'm not going to give it to you, unless you ask for it."

"Alright! _Alright_.." she bleated, looking heavenward in her distress, feeling as though she might melt into the floor in a heap of embarrassment and longing. Nonetheless, she took a deep shuddering breath, "you... you once mentioned about.. _tasting_ a woman.. and I was just curious - you know.." she trailed off hopelessly, her entire face on fire.

"About...?" He coaxed, a playful gleam in his eye - and she knew the scoundrel wasn't going to give up until she'd explicitly verbalised everything he wanted to hear.

"About.. about what _exactly_ you meant by that.." she tried to sound unaffected but she knew her shaky voice gave her away. There was a long and intense pause for a moment as his eyes roamed over her body again, his arousal shifting almost imperceptibly in his lap. But she noticed. _By God_ did she notice.

"And you came all the way down here at 2am just to ask me that?" He teased mercilessly, "how very _impatient_ of you darling."

"Well I couldn't sleep either," she replied defensively, "you're not the only one who needed to clear their head you know."

"Well, since you're here now-" he offered with a wink, "I could tell you the answer to your question. Or," he grinned dangerously, "I could _show_ you."

She could only moan helplessly by way of response.

"But in order to show you sweetheart, you're going to have to come and join me over here," he extended his hand to her, "please. I don't bite."

Still she remained where she stood, fidgeting from foot to foot and wringing her hands in front of her. His body was beginning to grow almost unbearably frustrated, knowing she was within reach but not yet being able to touch her. Still, he didn't want to scare her away. She was still relatively new to this after all.

"Can.. can you _tell_ me first?" She asked, "And then.." she trailed off hopelessly. How could she possibly explain to him what she _really_ wanted - to hear him describe in shocking detail exactly what he was going to do to her before he did it. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was stimulated by semantics.

He eyed her curiously for a moment, as though he could read every single thought flitting through her mind.

"Very well," he conceded, settling back against the cushions again, making no effort to hide his arousal from her, "when I mentioned tasting you, Maria, I meant that I would bring you to orgasm using my tongue. Just as I touched you with my fingertips last time, _this_ time I want to lick and kiss you there until you come apart for me."

Her breath caught in her throat, the dangerous rush of heat starting low and pulsing throughout her entire body at his confession.

"I could explain in great detail how I'd like to run my mouth over every inch of your womanhood, but the truth is, I'm an impatient man. And I have no trouble telling you what it is _I_ want," all mischief suddenly left his face and his eyes were pools of black desire, "And what I _want_ , Maria, is to taste your arousal. I want it very badly. And I want it now."

His words was setting every inch of her on fire.

"But it isn't just about what _I_ want, darling," he rasped, clearly deeply affected by his own words as the evidence of his thoughts strained hard against his abdomen, "it's also about what _you_ want. But if-"

"I _do_ want it!" she blurted suddenly, barely able to contain herself, "I want it as badly as you do!"

He looked beyond relieved, "then for God sake," he fairly begged, all pretences dropped, "come here!"

She flew to him instantly, and that was all it took for them to lose all control, to suddenly close the short distance between them and throw themselves into each other's arms, the opportunity for uninterrupted intimacy far too delicious to ignore. She knew their tutorials were meant to be slow and educational, easing her into intimacies that she was only just beginning to understand. But this time it was different - this time, they'd already experienced the other's touch and their actions were being driven solely by frantic need.

Somewhere amidst the chaos of her thundering heartbeat and their ferocious mouths crashing together, she felt his solid arms lift her from the ground and guide her legs around his waist. She thought he might settle her down on the sofa, where they'd first become intimate - but instead he carried her to his desk and set her atop the mahogany surface almost roughly, the dull thud of their bodies meeting the wood apparently not enough to bring them back to their senses.

He was ravenous, ragged, desperate as he pressed every inch of himself against her, licking at her mouth, tasting the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, groping possessively at her breasts and the urgency in his blackened eyes left her almost unbearably aroused. Within seconds he was frantically hoisting her nightgown up around her waist and sinking to his knees, sidling between her thighs as he draped her calves over his shoulders.

A brief moment of panic..

"Georg.." she whimpered suddenly, trying her hardest to think straight, "wait.. I-"

But all fear was immediately eradicated and the words robbed from her throat by the sudden brush of his jaw against her thigh and the sensation of his hot breath between her legs - his mouth unbearably close to the most sensitive part of her body.

"What is it darling?" He rasped, hovering mere centimetres from where she needed him most.

" _please..._ ," was all she could manage, her head thrown back and her eyes squeezed tight shut, "... _please."_

And with that she bit down on her fist to stifle a loud cry as she felt the unbearable wet heat of his tongue sliding along her opening. She heard his deep moan of appreciation, felt the vibration of his hum all the way inside her, turning her blood to liquid fire.

"God help me," he shuddered, his voice muffled against her, "you taste _phenomenal_." And just when she thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, he blazed a fiery trail upwards until his open mouth massaged a tender place made of pure molten. His name tore from her lips instantly and she anchored her fingers in his hair, the firm but gentle tongue making her writhe in desperation.

His ministrations began gently, languidly, lovingly, but soon became more insistent and, instead of shrinking away from the blinding intensity, she found that she was opening herself to his beautiful mouth, frantic for more of him. His lips and tongue moved against her mercilessly, eliciting cries that she didn't know she was capable of as she arched into his attentions. And as the antagonising tension began to climb from the very place he was worshipping her and spread throughout the rest of her body, she noticed briefly that Georg seemed to have let go entirely, acting only on primitive need. Where before, he had perhaps hung back, weary of scaring her away - now he did no such thing, anchoring her firmly in place by her thighs and lapping at her centre with an almost possessive urgency.

Before long she was lying back helplessly against the cool mahogany, her back arching from the strain, no longer able to stay upright. And she found herself suddenly begging for the relief, pleading in strangled whispers for him to take the rhythm higher, her fingers twining into his hair and pulling him closer. It seemed she had absolutely no qualms about pleading for what she wanted now.

She mewled in frustration as he prolonged her blissful suffering. And it felt as though the tension would never break, that he would keep her suspended helplessly in time and space forever - until finally she felt her entire body convulse, the insistent flick of his tongue sending her spiralling into the depths of sweet, painful euphoria. As her body wracked beneath him, she felt him press his face more firmly between her legs, absorbing himself in every shudder of her release.

And then there was nothing but a blissful inner peace. Limp and panting, she remained sprawled on the desk for long minutes, vaguely aware of his gentle kisses along her inner thighs.

"Are you alright, love?" He eventually asked, his baritone voice thick with want.

She took a shuddering breath and managed a dreamy "yes" before she felt him return to a standing position, taking hold of her wrists and gently pulling her up until she was sitting once again. She still felt light as a feather and gripped his shoulders for support, slumping gratefully into his warm embrace. Though she was still learning, she was at least experienced enough by now to know that he would be almost frantic for his own release. And sure enough, she could feel the evidence against her thigh, dangerously close to where he had been tasting her only moments ago.

"Is... is it your turn?" She whispered shakily, unsure of what to do.

"I need release, yes," he rasped honestly, his entire body rigid, "but as for what we just did - you deserve to have me teach you properly, with guidance and patience, before you do the same for me. And I fear I won't be able to give you that right now," he looked quite distressed actually, "but I _do_ need your hands on me. Quite desperately... but only if you-"

His words dissolved into a strangled moan when she dared to move a bold hand between their bodies and take him gently in her palm. He was better than she remembered - hot and hard, smooth as satin under her fingers, and she was stirred deeply by the violent shudder that rippled through his body at her touch.

"Like this?" She asked uncertainly, gripping him firmly and smoothing upward, mimicking the strokes he had taught her in their last lesson. But he could barely form a reply - in fact he could do little more than grip at the desk either side of her thighs, his nails biting into the wood as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

"I can't..." he pleaded, his face a picture of tortured ecstasy, ".. sofa... _please_ ," and before she knew it he was scooping her into his arms and collapsing into a sitting position against the plush cushions, cradling her in his lap as his swollen mouth found hers. But it wasn't enough - she wanted to feel the heat of him in her hand again. Feeling emboldened and a little impatient, she shifted off his lap and let her fist find him once more, swallowing her captain's deep groan of approval as he kissed her.

It wasn't long before his chest was heaving, his hands moving over her mercilessly, panting into her mouth as his entire body shook. When the exertion became too much for him, he broke their kiss with a growl and threw his head back against the sofa, his eyes squeezed tight shut and his entire body rigid with need, the muscles pulled taught across his torso. She was utterly mesmerised, watching as the starched aristocrat dissolved away to reveal the hot blooded man beneath. She was certain it was the most thrilling thing she'd ever experienced and she felt her inhibitions slowly melting at the sight of him.

Driven by a surge of bravery she hardly dared to acknowledge, and wanting desperately to give to him in equal measure, she dared herself to bend her head and tentatively took him into her mouth. The desperate cry that followed from him could only be described as primal, and on a protective instinct he tried to shift away from her, away from sensations too overwhelming to bare. But his stubborn little Fraulein stood firm, the wet tug of her gentle mouth threatening to unhinge him.

" _Maria.."_ he choked in warning, knowing she wouldn't quite be ready for him to finish this way, but realising in a panic that he might not have much choice in the matter. He was dangerously close to losing all control. But despite his plea, she continued mercilessly and he was helpless under the ministrations of that delectable mouth as his orgasm gathered like white hot flames deep in his loins. And then, quite without warning, the blinding pleasure erupted like a fireball inside him, before streaking upwards and-

"Oh God Maria, _stop!"_

She obeyed his strangled command and pulled away in confusion, just in time to watch him come apart in front of her, his entire body wracking with desperate spasms and his face contorted in ecstasy as he shuddered through the violent relief. And then, finally, he fell limp against her and there wasn't a single sound, save for the gentle ticking of the clock in the corner and their shallow breathing as they clung to each other in mutual bliss.

"Two weeks..." he murmured wistfully after long minutes had passed, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair, "two weeks and you'll be my wife. Finally."

His words filled her with such a sudden and fierce rush of adoration that it made her breath catch and her heart swell unexpectedly. How blessed she was to have discovered a harbour in this man. This beautiful, brave, stoic, complex human being who chose to bare his soul to her when few others had ever seen it. This stirring individual who had just trusted her enough to come apart in her arms. And it was the knowledge that he had committed his life to her, the realisation that only she would ever see him in such an intimate light, the understanding that he would forever be hers, that finally sent her drifting into a warm and undisturbed slumber against his chest.

* * *

 **A/N: again it might've been a bit too much but I think I'm far past the point of propriety! let me know your thoughts and what you think their last tutorial should be before the weddding night!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: here we go! I honestly shock myself sometimes with the inner workings of my mind! Haha, I hope you all enjoy! And again, I think I'm far past the point of propriety! Thank you so much for all your words of encouragement, they mean a lot!**

* * *

Maria wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to get herself into this bizarre predicament but it was proving to be every bit as tiresome and simultaneously amusing as Georg had predicted. Her fiancé had positively guffawed with fiendish delight when both Bridget and Baroness Eberfeld had insisted on taking Maria shopping for the last additions to her trousseau. She hadn't quite understood at the time why Georg had found the prospect so utterly hilarious - in fact, she'd been rather touched by the older women's gesture and had accepted eagerly. But now, as she stood helpless in the shop of one of Salzburg's finest couturiers, she could see _exactly_ what had left her captain so thoroughly amused.

Bridget and Emilia hadn't stopped bickering since they'd left the villa. While Bridget would insist on this shop or that, Emilia would scoff with outrage as though the suggestions were personally insulting, "she's coming _out_ of the abbey, Bridget darling, not going back into it!" The elderly woman had insisted, "A honeymoon in Paris requires a certain _type_ of wardrobe. Not the kind of repellent straightjacket you have in mind!"

"Modesty is still a virtue, nun or not!" Bridget had bristled in response, and Maria was almost positive she'd heard Emilia mutter something under her breath that had sounded very much like ' _prude'_ while rolling her eyes.

And now here she was, spinning in a slow circle with her mouth agape as she beheld the endless racks of gorgeous fabrics and clothing in the only shop that the two older women had managed to agree upon. All the while her confidants were thrusting garment after garment under her nose, each fighting like petulant children to have the last word. Maria half expected them to start elbowing each other out of the way in their attempts to win her approval and she had to bite the inside of her cheeks to squelch the laughter.

"Maria, sweetheart, you'd look simply _divine_ in this," Bridget gushed excitedly, holding up a modest nightgown that wasn't quite as bad as the billowing tent Maria currently owned, but was still rather a bit too frumpy for her liking, with full length sleeves and unflattering frills. She knew, even in her limited experience of lingerie, that Georg wouldn't much care for it -but nevertheless she attempted a grateful smile and-

"Oh purrrlease," snorted Emilia, diving out from behind a rack of endless lace and silk, " _this_ is more like it!" With a smirk of fiendish satisfaction that looked almost comical against her white hair and motherly appearance, she presented a hanger from which dangled a tiny swathe of completely sheer white material that left nothing to the imagination.

Bridget gave a scandalised yelp, "good God!" She cried, clutching at her chest and flapping her hand at the garment as though she wanted to banish it straight to hell, "put that back where you found it Emilia, for goodness sake!" She hissed, "Do you want to _scar_ the poor girl?!"

The mischief immediately dropped from the baroness's face, replaced instead with a sour pout. "Fine," She huffed insolently, "I'm going to check what's in the back," and with that, she disappeared behind a thick curtain in the far corner, ushering impatiently as a wide-eyed seamstress scurried after her. Bridget heaved a sigh of relief once her competitor was out of sight and fixed Maria with a pointed look of apology and exasperation.

"Don't pay her any mind, Maria," she gave a flippant wave of her hand as she turned back to the racks, sifting through the many items, "she forgets this isn't a repeat of her own honeymoon!"

Maria again had to stifle a giggle when she was confronted with the mental image of the worldly and sophisticated baroness Eberfeld parading around in nothing but some sheer lace. Could it be that Emilia and the baron had been as passionate and impulsive back in their youth as she and Georg were now? The baroness _did_ seem to have a mischievous side, much to Maria's delight - but Hans Eberfeld on the other hand, seemed so proper, so subdued. And yet Maria ought to know by now that the most stoic of men could harbour fierce and passionate hearts underneath their nonchalant exteriors.

"You have nothing to fear you know," Bridget interrupted Maria's musings with a knowing look, "the wedding night I mean."

Maria eyed the older woman curiously. This conversation was the last she'd expect to have with Bridget Von Trapp, of all people.

"It will hurt no doubt, I'll warn you of that," Bridget said flippantly, "but the pain won't last. It'll ease, and then after that it's only ever a bit of mild discomfort," she continued to rifle through the garments on display as she spoke, as though they were discussing the ailments of a common cold, "It's tolerable after a while - and you soon learn to distract yourself with other musings until it's all over. Just lie back and think of the alps, as my mother used to say!" She gave a titter of knowing laughter before fixing Maria with a patronising smile, "but as I said dear, you have nothing to worry about. Georg _loves_ you! I'm sure he'll make it as tolerable for you as he possibly can."

It was becoming almost impossible for Maria to hold in her laughter. What on earth would Bridget think of her if she found out that Georg had already made their encounters considerably _better_ than tolerable! And on more than one occasion. In fact, she and Georg had secretly arranged to meet up again that very night, once the rest of the household retired for the evening. And if she was honest with herself, looking through her potential honeymoon outfits was making it all the more difficult for her to be patient until then.

"Pssst, Maria!" an urgent voice from behind her pierced her reverie.

Perplexed, she spun on her heels to find the floating head of Baroness Eberfeld poking through the gap in the very same curtain she'd disappeared behind not a few minutes ago. She extended a bejewelled hand and beckoned Maria closer with a hurried flap of her fingers, her eyes positively dancing with mischief. Uncertain of which road to take, Maria cast an uncertain eye back at Bridget but, upon discovering that her advisor was still very much preoccupied with sifting through materials and talking to herself about holy virtues, Maria gave a shrug and managed to slip away undetected. She'd barely made it to the curtain before Emilia was gripping her wrist firmly and pulling her through to the back of the shop.

"You're welcome!" She declared triumphantly, once Maria had gathered herself.

"What for?"

"For saving you from Bridget's snooze inducing lecture, of course! Don't tell me - ," the baroness held up a hand before Maria could open her mouth to retort, "it'll be positively _awful_ for you on the wedding night and then acceptably tolerable on all occasions thereafter? Am I correct?"

This time Maria couldn't stifle her giggle, "something like that."

"Ha! What a load of codswallop!" The baroness barked.

"So, it doesn't hurt after all?" Maria enquired curiously.

"Well.. " Emilia hesitated, "yes the first time it _does_ hurt a little. It's inevitable, you see. But you must know the discomfort lasts only seconds! And then.. oh Maria, dear - what follows is just.." her eyes glazed over sentimentally, "indescribable."

There was a moment's pause then, each of them lost to their own pleasant memories, unbeknownst to the other, before the baroness seemed to snap back to reality with a wistful sigh.

"Well," she smiled knowingly, "you'll find out for yourself soon enough I should think! But to lay with the right man is nothing short of beautiful. Allow yourself to just let go, my dear, when the time comes."

If Maria had still been as innocent as when she'd first left the convent, she might've been confused by Emilia's words. But as it was, she found her breath catching in her throat. Had Georg himself not told her that society's rules ought to be forgotten in their most private moments? That she ought to let her inhibitions go? She'd trusted his word of course, but there was something about hearing it from the lips of an elderly member of the aristocracy - many of whom still scorned her - that made the very last of her reservations melt away. Perhaps there really was no shame in what they'd been doing after all.

"Ahah!" Emilia suddenly cried in triumph, launching towards the closest rack and pulling a deep red number from the items, "now _this_ will have Georg fainting at your feet!"

* * *

Maria's heart hammered slightly as she heard the grandfather clock downstairs strike 2am. It was finally time, but despite her eagerness to see Georg, she stood rooted to the spot, staring at the garment that she'd tentatively laid out on her bed only minutes ago. It was the stunning red piece that baroness Eberfeld had insisted she buy for her trousseau - only the baroness had sneakily separated it from the rest of the shopping bags when they'd returned to the villa and shoved the packaged garment hurriedly into Maria's arms with a wink of approval. While the other purchases had been carted off for packing, Maria had scurried to her room to hide her sordid treasure before anyone else discovered it.

And now here she stood, pacing back and forth in agitation as she eyed the lingerie wearily. Did she have the nerve to put it on? She wondered. Was it a step too far? But then Baroness Eberfeld's words from earlier that day floated into her ears like a reassuring chorus.

 _Allow yourself to just let go..._

Before she could talk herself out of it she hurriedly undressed out of her billowing nightgown and slipped into the new garment, sidling up to the armoire mirror to scrutinise her reflection. She froze, immediately stirred by the person she saw staring back at her - not a frightened young girl, not a cloistered innocent, but _a woman_. A confident, self-assured woman in control of her own body and her own destiny. She hardly recognised herself - the sophisticated temptress in the mirror couldn't possibly be her. There was a challenging glint in the mirrored woman's eye, as though she was daring Maria to take a chance.

Feeling suddenly giddy with anticipation, she pulled her robe on over the lingerie and tied the sash tight around her waist before slipping from the room, tiptoeing through the landing, down the stairs and across the marble hallway on silent feet. This time, when she reached the study, she didn't even hesitate, knocking lightly before stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a soft click. When she turned into the room, it was to discover Georg sitting patiently in his desk chair, his chiselled face illuminated by the soft glow of the nearby reading lamp and his hands resting lightly atop the armrests. He was still in his dress shirt and trousers, the crisp white cuffs rolled up and the first few buttons undone at the collar to reveal the light thatch of curls beneath. His demeanour was casual but he was staring at her with such a fierce intensity that she could already feel her skin prickling with desire.

"What took you so long..." he said quietly, the authoritative undertones of his voice coiling inside her, "I do hope you're not going off me..."

She shook her head mutely, unable to find her voice. She didn't quite know how to tell him that she was late because she'd been busy donning her new lingerie, and for a brief moment she was grateful that he couldn't see through her robe - even though he seemed to be able to see straight through her soul.

"Thank God for that," he purred, a dangerously slow smile pulling at his lips, "because I've been looking forward to this _all day._ So much in fact, that I've had to take _two_ cold showers."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion and his mischievous smile grew wider, "the cold helps to quash male arousal - at least temporarily. Or in my case-" he added bitterly, "barely long enough to dress."

Maria felt her mouth go dry at the mental image of a stimulated captain Von Trapp with a steady stream of hot water cascading down his body. How was it that, with only a few words and a heated glance, he could render her entirely speechless? She felt every bit the young virgin once again, caught out of bed when she wasn't supposed to be. Hastily, she made to move towards the safety of the sofa, but his low murmur halted her in her tracks.

" _Maria..."_

She met his gaze and his burning stare seemed to sink into her very bones. Without so much as a single preliminary, he extended his hand with deliberate slowness and patted the top of his thigh in a silent command. Her blood began to heat on a low and dangerous simmer - and long seconds seemed to pass before she finally had the courage to speak.

"You want me to...?" She trailed off hopelessly as he interrupted her with a slow nod, his face a mask of grave intensity and his eyes black as coal as his strong fingers drummed in an anticipatory rhythm atop his leg. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to remember the confidence of the woman she'd seen reflected in her mirror only minutes ago. Wordlessly, she crossed the room towards him and perched tentatively on his knee with a nervous smile over her shoulder.

"No Maria," his low voice was deep in the shell of her ear, "like _this_."

Without warning, she felt his strong hands span her waist firmly and spin her round, pulling her into his lap until she was suddenly straddling him. She gasped in surprise while he guided her silken arms around his neck.

"That's _much_ better," he breathed, before he captured her lips with his own, his tongue gently invading her mouth as he hands held her close by the waist. Her fingers twined into his hair instantly and she felt a heady surge of empowerment course through her body at his touch, as though his kisses were a drug that was slowly ensnaring her senses.

The longer they kissed, the more aware she became of his arousal pressing firmly against the place where she ached for him, and the barely perceptible shift of their hips every now and again was enough to set her nerves alight. Desire burning in her veins, she broke the rapidly intensifying kiss to catch her breath, only for Georg to relocate his ministrations to her neck.

"Do you like this position, Maria?" He rasped against the skin of her throat, his steel fingers digging into her hips. She could only whimper in response to convey her approval, letting her head loll back so he could nip at her collarbone.

"Good," came his low murmur, "because this will be tonight's lesson," his hands roamed over her robe-clad back like silk and sandpaper all at once, "How to take charge of your own pleasure when we make love."

Every synapse, every nerve in her body seemed to inflame at the insinuations behind his promise.

"There are many different ways to make love, Maria - a hundred different positions, a thousand different rhythms. But _this_ \- " he grabbed her hips again, "-splayed on top of me this way - _this_ is when you alone will take control. Not only over your own body, but over mine as well."

His words were setting her on fire. There was nothing but noise in her head, static-crackling as his velvet voice drowned all other sound, her lungs heaving and her toes curling.

"How?" She breathed, eyes squeezed tight shut as his hands blazed a languid path from her waist down to the tops of her thighs, anchored either side of his hips.

"By listening to your body," he murmured, pressing kisses to her throat as his fingers grazed down her legs to the hem of her robe just above her knees. Capturing her mouth again he let his palms slip under her robe, gliding slowly up the silken skin of her thighs, until his fingers made contact with an unexpected texture - a material he was sure he knew all too well. Lace.

 _Surely it couldn't be..._

He broke their kiss in sudden bewilderment, staring at her with eyes blown wide in disbelief. The tension pulsed palpably between their bodies and their gazes met for only a moment, before he hurriedly tugged the sash loose from around her waist. The lapels of the robe parted instantly to reveal a negligee of a deep red hue, the swathes of patterned lace clinging to her every curve like a second skin.

" _Oh Christ_ ," he choked, and she felt the heat of his reaction shift dangerously beneath her, leaving her faint.

"I.. I bought it today," she blushed self-consciously as his eyes devoured every inch of her exposed skin, "do you like it?"

She waited for his reply but not a word left his lips. Instead his mouth hung agape in stunned silence - as though he'd never seen the female form before, as though he'd never seen _her_ before. His black eyes churned with desire, a startling smoulder shadowing his face that promised both unknown danger and indescribable ecstasy. And just when she thought she couldn't take another second of the unbearable tension, he took hold of her hips with hands made of steel and pulled her down hard against his arousal with a growl of longing.

"You wonderful, _beautiful_ girl." His words were ones of adoration but the suggestive undertones of his voice hinted at a sense of disciplinary approval that made her lungs - and various other parts of her body - tighten with need. She'd barely managed a strangled moan before his mouth descended upon the valley of her breasts, his tongue painting a fiery trail and raising gooseflesh on her skin as he ground his hips beneath her possessively. His teeth raked hungrily over the material of her negligee, finding a diamond-hard nipple that was fighting hard to escape the fabric. With a grunt of impatience, he shoved the lace aside to bear her breasts to the cool air, before suckling the desired nipple into the wet heat of his mouth.

Lost on a wave of sensation, Maria arched into his touch eagerly. It seemed he'd been right when he'd told her to listen to her body, for it was telling her exactly what to do without her having to form a single coherent thought. It commanded her fingers to grapple furiously with his shirt buttons until she could shove the garment aside and feel the solid planes of his chest. It commanded her hips to move in a languid rhythm against his lap. It commanded her arms to wrap around his neck and pull him flush against her, until she could feel the thatch of hair on his torso brushing agonisingly against her. And it left her melting, ragged, desperate for more of him.

Georg felt as though he were dreaming as his bride gyrated in his arms, her pebbled nipples utterly tantalising against his bare skin. He gripped at the velvety flesh of her thighs to make sure she was real, to make sure that her body really was wrapped around him. His own body was aching, throbbing to be with her entirely - so much so, that he could hardly contain his need. And it seemed she felt the very same way, for within a matter of minutes she was whimpering against him in frustration.

"Shh darling," he cooed in sympathy, running his fingers roughly along her jaw as she writhed atop him, "I know, I know. It's not _enough_ is it.."

She shook her head desperately, her face contorted in anguish.

"Then you must take charge of your own pleasure, love," he commanded gently, "Did I not tell you to listen to your body? I'm not going to explain to you what you already know."

If anyone was going to be both gentle and yet simultaneously aggressive, it was her captain. Patient yet demanding, reassuring yet unnerving, unambiguous yet complex, safe and yet entirely too dangerous. He was a lion and a pussy cat all at once and the contrast would take her to the brink of insanity, she knew. But she'd learned by now that what her captain demanded would always lead to a pleasure previously undreamt of, as so she hesitated for only a moment before taking heed of her body's needs. With her eyes still squeezed tight shut, she took hold of his belt buckle, battling with the rigid leather with learned fingers. Immediately she felt his body stiffen in surprise.

"Maria..." he murmured uncertainly, his voice low in his throat, "I said your _own_ pleasure darling. Not mine."

But she ignored him, grappling at the belt buckle until the leather hung loose at his hips, her nimble fingers moving to make quick work of the buttons on his trousers. Instinctively, his strong hands curled around her wrists to still her movements as his pulse hammered in his throat.

"Maria," he spoke with low authority, "what are you doing?" It was a dangerous thing - knowing how close he would come to slipping inside her if she were only to free him from the safety of his clothes.

" _Please,"_ she breathed, her eyes snapping open to reveal a churning need as she bit her lower lip, sending a jolt of electricity straight to where he ached for her, "I just want to _feel_ you." He battled inwardly with himself as she began nibbling relentlessly at his throat - could he trust himself to be so close to her open heat and yet resist crossing the final threshold? Could he control the needs of his body enough to satisfy the needs of hers? With the heady sensation of the woman he loved pressed against every inch of him, there really was only one answer to such a question. Anticipation unfurled like liquid fire in his stomach and long, pounding seconds seemed to pass before he finally let his fingers slip from her wrists in a silent invitation. She gave a violent shudder of gratitude in his arms, a ragged ' _I love you'_ tumbling from her lips as she reached for him again.

And then, finally, her silken fingers closed around him and she pulled him free achingly slowly, until there was nothing left between them but furious wanting. Almost instantly he could feel the warmth emanating from her body and he was helpless to stifle a whimper when she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her hips languidly against him, until he could feel the slick open heat between her thighs gliding against his arousal.

He'd thought briefly that her own undergarments would spare them for at least a few moments, but he hadn't anticipated that she wouldn't be wearing any. As always, his Fraulein was full of surprises and he had to grit his teeth to fight the exquisite agony as she set a steady rhythm against him, drawing out her own pleasure by sliding the most sensitive part of her body over his. It was the closest he'd ever come to a woman without actually entering her, and it was both unbearably maddening and overwhelmingly exquisite, a pleasure of the acutest kind. Never before had he pushed his self control this far through delayed gratification and he could feel his fingernails biting into the wood of the armrests as he tried to think of something, _anything,_ but the intoxicating sensation of her glossy centre stroking against him.

If Maria thought his tongue had worked her into a frenzy during their last encounter, it was nothing compared to the startling friction of his manhood at the core of her pleasure now - a smooth pillar of satin and marble that skimmed the place where all her ecstasy churned like the eye of a storm. She couldn't recall ever feeling so close to him, his hands gripping at her hips as he encouraged her movements, his teeth nipping at her tender breasts, his hair threading through her fingers, his panted breaths hot on her skin. And as the pleasure began to build from the place where they moved tentatively against one another, she found that her body began to take over in its desperation to work for release. Her lazy nudges soon evolved into heavy and urgent thrusts, her breathy pants dissolved into fully fledged moans of need, her gentle grip on his shoulders deepened until her nails were biting into his skin. And she could tell - from the look of tortured rapture contorting his handsome face - that he was absolutely beside himself with the knowledge that she was bringing herself close to orgasm.

Georg was in serious danger. Every movement of her body was bringing him closer to the brink and her desperate urgency was leaving him fiercely aroused. He couldn't prevent his eyes from roaming all over her, the full breasts on display, the deep red lace that framed them, the slender column of her neck, the black desire in her eyes - there were too many stimulants, too many sensations for him to stand a chance. Never before had he been witness to such a demanding side to his Fraulein, and he was loathe to break the powerful spell that had overcome her as he felt his own need building at an alarming rate. Still, he would stave off his own release in favour of hers - even if it killed him.

But his resolve was instantaneously shattered when suddenly she shifted impatiently in his lap and he felt the very tip of his length slip unexpectedly into a tight place made of molten fire. He'd barely registered her startled gasp before he gave a strangled cry of his own at the new sensation - and he hurriedly grabbed her hips to hold her still, preventing her from sheathing him any further. It had happened quite by accident - a combination of the access their position granted and the slickness emanating from her body - but he'd been helpless to stop it. He was barely an inch inside her, but nevertheless the sensation was too exquisite to bear, and it was taking all his willpower not to pull her down upon him until he was buried as deep as he could possibly be.

Gulping in lungfuls of air, he tried desperately to keep her still so they wouldn't be joined fully - after all, she wouldn't yet be ready for the intense combination of pleasure and pain. But it seemed she was lost to her body's needs, squirming against him and whimpering impatiently for more of the much needed friction. Still he wouldn't give it to her, unable to trust himself no matter how badly she needed it. It was taking every ounce of discipline he possessed, but he wouldn't take her as his own - not like this.

But just when he thought the immediate danger had passed, she managed to writhe against him one last time with a moan of delight. The next thing he knew she was shuddering violently in his arms and he could feel the agonising sensation of her body tightening in erratic spasms around the very tip of him. Much to his horror and sheer elation, he realised too late that she was coming apart in his lap and he groaned deeply as a feral cry tore from his bride's throat, her orgasm ripping through her with a thunderous force.

Never before had he given in to his body so easily but somewhere amidst the chaos of his thundering heartbeat and her frantic cries, he felt his own release coil deep within him - and he managed to lift her limp form off his lap just in time to feel the blinding euphoria shatter through his very soul. He felt as though he was being torn in two as the waves crashed over him, the sweet relief mingling with the sting of shame that came with losing control in such a way - but his Fraulein seemed only enthralled by his forceful response, stroking her fingers through his hair and hushing his whimpers with whispered reassurances in the shell of his ear. He felt like a broken man, clinging to her comforting embrace as though she were his only lifeline, his mind a blank canvas of static noise as he willed his heartbeat to slow and his ragged breathing to subside.

As he buried his head in the valley between her breasts, welcoming her soothing caresses and gasping words of adoration against her skin, only one coherent thought registered in his mind.

Somehow, the student had become the teacher.

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 **A/N: as always let me know what you think! And if you have any special requests for the grand finale - a.k.a the wedding night! I hope I can do it justice.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: here it is, the final chapter. To be honest, I'm not so sure I'm happy with it but then again this was only ever meant to be a bit of mindless fun! Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews throughout and for sticking with me!**

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"Do you like it?" Georg turned to her, beaming like a school boy and Maria's heart swelled at the sight.

"Oh _Georg_ ," she gushed, clapping her hands together in wonder, "it's just gorgeous!"

She twirled slowly in a circle, her palms pressed to her cheeks, drinking in the understated luxury of their honeymoon suite, marvelling at the sheer expanse of it. There were at least three more rooms off the main living space - a huge bathroom with a glorious tub, a vast bedroom with a grand four-poster bed, and a walk-in wardrobe that was larger than her governess' bedroom back in Aigen! Out on the expansive balcony, the city of Paris glittered in the moonlight like a sea of stars in a night sky and as Georg watched his bride spin gently on the spot in awe, he was reminded fondly of the time he'd discovered her in his ballroom, blown away by the beauty of the place she'd discovered.

"I thought you'd like it," he grinned, watching as she crossed the room in a flurry of skirts and disappeared into the bedroom to explore. He followed her eagerly and observed her from the doorway with a chuckle, loathe to disturb her child-like wonder as she gawped in amazement at the giant bed, "it's not too grand," he explained, "but certainly no postulant's cell either!"

Immediately her face fell at the mention of the abbey, and Georg felt his stomach suddenly bottom out.

"What?" He asked in a panic, his face marring in a concerned frown, "what is it darling?"

It had been such a glorious day - a grand wedding at Nonnberg, a stunning bride, endless celebrations with friends and family before they'd changed hurriedly into their travel attire and boarded their train to the most romantic city in the world. It had been a long journey and he'd suspected that she might be tired - but he'd hoped they'd both be eager to finally be alone. She'd spent the last week before their wedding living at Nonnberg - on Bridget's insistence - in a hugely unnecessary display of propriety, and he'd missed her terribly during those long seven days. He'd expected a loving reunion, perhaps even a frantic one, after their week of desperation. What he had _not_ expected, was for his bride to suddenly look so forlorn. They were finally on their honeymoon after all! She ought to be overjoyed, just as he was.

"Oh.." she sighed heavily, sinking onto the edge of the bed and resting her hands daintily in her lap, "it's just.."

"Just what?" He crossed the room and joined her in a heartbeat, crouching down onto his haunches in front of her and taking her hands in his, "tell me."

She paused momentarily before looking at him with weary eyes, "Today was more perfect than I could've ever imagined, Georg. And being at the abbey, surrounded by loved ones.. " she looked to the floor, her gaze downcast, "It's just... I can't help but worry that we might go back to find that our homeland is no more.."

He sighed then in understanding - the political situation back at home had been a topic of discussion for a while now after all, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried himself. He gazed into his wife's eyes pensively, letting her words truly sink in, and he suddenly recognised - for the first time since they'd confessed their love for one another - the deep change that had been wrought in her over the short time that he'd known her. The transition had been so gradual, so subtle, that he'd hardly noticed it, but nevertheless it had happened before his very eyes and it shone before him now like a beacon in the darkness.

Gone was the lost, frightened child who had fled from his arms the night of the party, the stubborn enigma who had plagued him, challenged him and sorely tested his patience all summer, all with a fiendish glint in her eye, as though it were nothing but a marvellous game to her. Of course, she would always harbour within her elements of the spirited young girl who had skipped and sang her way through his home, sliding down his bannisters and bravely crossing swords with him when he'd so badly wronged his children. He knew she would never lose that particular part of herself and he loved her all the more fiercely for it. But now, despite her obvious anxiety - when he looked at his darling Maria - he saw not a girl, but a woman.

He saw a newfound confidence, a knowing acceptance, a sense of worldliness and self-awareness he had seen often in the experienced faces of sophisticated women twice her age who'd been born and bred for high society. It was the look of a woman who'd come to know herself and feel comfortable in her own skin, a woman who now had responsibilities to protect and a future to contemplate. But there was also another look that many an aristocratic woman didn't possess. The look of those who had become well-acquainted with life's hardships, who had lost the ones they loved, who knew what it was like to feel desolate and alone, who knew what the future could potentially hold. He knew that look because he'd bore it himself for a number of years before his Fraulein had come into his life.

Maria had told him once of the misery in her childhood and he'd realised then that there had been nothing in her sheltered background to prepare her for the kind of life she would come to lead. A life with _him_. A life with his children. Unlike other societal women, she wore her heart on her sleeve - as she was doing now - in such a guileless way that he'd been instantly drawn to her almost from the very first moment's of their acquaintance.

But she had managed, somehow, through sheer stubbornness and force of will, to rise to every challenge, to cross every hurdle, displaying strength and bravery, wit and cleverness and, yes—as he had learned—even a fiery passion one would not expect to find in a woman from such a cloistered background. And he loved her all the more for it, for having reinvented herself, on her own terms, into someone who could move and survive in his bizarre world. It seemed, he realised, that he'd taught her all she would ever need to know. Not just in terms of their intimacy, but in terms of the future they would have together.

And now here she was, this beautiful, spirited, complex woman before him, finally his for the taking—not just for tonight, but forever. She was offering him a priceless treasure, a precious gift—one that she hadn't planned on giving to anyone in her lifetime. And it stirred him deeply to know that she had chosen to be his. Not God's, not the noviciate's, but _his_. Tonight wouldn't be a lesson, but the very beginning of their new journey, and the knowledge left him feeling as though he could take on anything - even the loss of his homeland - as long as she was by his side.

His fingertips traced the frame of her face and smoothed the hair from her forehead lovingly, "Nobody can ever know what the future might hold my darling. We can pray, and hope that our country does the right thing...but we can never truly know what tomorrow holds." His touch danced down the delicate satin of her cheek, tracing the shell of her ear and running along the delicate contour of her jaw, making her shiver with longing, "Tomorrow is uncertain, but tonight is _ours_ , love," his eyes were churning with a heady combination of wistfulness and hot desire, his voice deepening in his throat as he caressed her skin with a phantom touch, "and I'd very much like to spend it thinking of nothing but how best to make you cry out my name."

The sudden promise behind his words sent rivers of liquid fire seeping from the depths of her stomach to each individual nerve ending in her body, and when he rose slightly and his lips ghosted across her brows, she was helpless to stop the breathless sigh that escaped her. Almost instantly she melted against him, tilting her face into his loving ministrations, and he was reminded of the time back in Aigen when he'd watched her forlornly from his balcony as she'd gazed out on to the lake at twilight, allowing evening's gentle breeze to sooth her sorrow. How he had wanted to leap from that balcony and join her! But he'd known then that patience would be his saviour, just as it would be tonight.

"Within these four walls, I am not a baron or a captain," he whispered against her skin, the words hot on her cheek, "And you are not a baroness..." her lips parted involuntarily when his mouth began to graze along her jawline, light as a feather but setting her on fire all the same, "We are simply two lovers. Two kindred spirits. Two bodies aflame. No holding back. No shame. Just Georg and Maria."

He made it sound so easy, so inviting, so desirable - just being herself. After all, how hard could it be? While others had always encouraged her to alter her rebellious ways, Georg - at least once they'd fallen in love - seemed to revel in the joy and spirit she brought to his life, and she knew he would never ask her to change a thing about herself. The realisation gave her comfort, filling her with that same boldness that she so often felt in his arms. She could hardly believe it! Here she was, a Baroness and wife - and yet she was still Maria, and always would be.

And that was her last coherent thought before warm hands of steel settled upon her knees and began grazing achingly slowly up the planes of her thighs, the light material of her skirts gathering fluidly between his fingertips like liquid gold as he exposed the milky skin hidden beneath. All too quickly and yet not fast enough, her garters were revealed and his skilled fingers stroked tenderly across the bare skin above them, smooth and soft as oriental silk, before he reached for the clips and freed her with a gentle flick of his wrists.

His eyes were black as night as he looked up at her from his kneeling position, the featherlight scrape of his fingertips sending a shiver down her spine when he rolled the sheer stockings down her legs one by one. Despite her trembling, he saw no trepidation in the blue depths of her gaze - only hunger. A hunger that he knew all too well, one that called to him like the piercing trill of a boatswain whistle, because the very same need was taking hold of him as well. With silent authority, he pushed her knees wide apart and sidled between her thighs, her legs anchored firmly under the strength of his upper arms. She felt herself blush profusely at his sudden proximity, but her self-consciousness was quashed the second his hands snaked around her waist and she heard the sound of her skirts being unzipped.

With nothing but a commanding jut of his chin that sent her blood hot, he had her lifting her hips so that he could hook his fingers into the waistband of the garment and tug it down her legs impatiently - until finally, it lay abandoned on the floor next to her garters. His eyes seemed to bore into her face for eternity then, as though he were memorising every freckle, every contour of her features, and she found herself holding her breath in heady anticipation. It felt as though he'd never free her of the intensity of that burning gaze until finally, he allowed his eyes to leave hers and travel down the length of her body, their languid descent making her toes curl. She felt, rather than heard his sharp intake of breath when his gaze fell upon her underwear - another set from her trousseau that she'd dared to put on before their departure for Paris.

"My god," he murmured low in his throat, his fingers digging into her waist possessively, "just _look_ at you.." The silky coils of his voice lit a fire low in her belly and then, quite without warning, he was burying his face in the apex of her thighs and inhaling deeply through the silk and lace, the deep rumble of his groan against her almost too pleasurable to withstand. Her fingers gripped at his hair for dear life as he nuzzled against her, and she burned with mortification when he inhaled her scent deeply again.

"Like ripe strawberries and cream," he purred fiendishly, pressing a gentle kiss to her inner thigh and turning her cheeks a delectable shade of red, " _heavenly_..." And then as quickly as he'd nuzzled her, he moved away again, drawing his head back to look up at her with that patented half smile that had no doubt seduced a fair few women over the years, a smile that told her she was beautiful, admired, desired - and she couldn't ever remember feeling more so. She wanted desperately to tease him in the same manner but she found herself rooted to the spot when his elbows came to rest on her thighs and his fingers moved deftly down the row of buttons on her blouse, leaving the skin around her nipples tightening with need.

"I don't think I've ever been so aroused Maria," he rasped in earnest, allowing the shimmered chiffon of her blouse to finally cascade from her shoulders like a gentle waterfall, exposing a matching bra of cream silk and black lace. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight - her chest was rising and falling as her pulse quickened at the base of her throat, the lingerie clung to her lithe figure like a second skin, her thighs were spread wide on either side of his torso and her eyes were squeezed tight shut in frustrated arousal. She looked like heaven itself and a dangerous surge of desire went rushing south as he marvelled at her beauty.

He could see the hardened outline of her nipples fighting against the silk, making his mouth water, and with a sudden growl of longing he shoved the material aside and dragged his tongue along one breast. She cried out in surprise as he swirled lazy circles around the edge of the rosy peak teasingly, making her writhe above him in agitation, until his lips at last closed around it, drawing it into the warmth of his mouth and suckling possessively. Immediately she arched into the wet tug of his lips and with quick skill he managed to rid her of her bra as though the garment were little more than an annoyance to him.

With a carnal hunger, he began on the second breast, lapping the nipple erect until she could no longer trust herself to remain upright. With a whimper of need, she lay back against the cool sheets of the bed behind her and spread her thighs wider around him, even while her cloudy mind reeled at her own boldness.

"Oh _darling_.." he moaned in approval at her display of wanton confidence, though he made no move to follow her, choosing instead to remain kneeling between her legs - and she immediately mourned the loss of his mouth on her bare chest. Her regret was short lived however, for his strong hands instantly reached upward and palmed her breasts firmly before he dragged his fingertips over her nipples, down her rib cage and across her stomach, making her arch like a cat in her desperation to be closer to him.

"What do you want love," he demanded, from somewhere far away, as she felt his fingers hook into the waistband of her underwear, "what would make you burn for me the most?"

"Anything.." she stammered, her dizzy head thrown back against the sheets and her eyes squeezed tight shut as he began to pull the last remaining garment from her body.

"No Maria," he scolded quietly, his voice laced with a discipline that she recognised as once belonging to her employer, "that's not good enough. Tell me _where_ to touch you."

She could feel the languid descent of her underwear down the pillars of her legs as he spoke and she knew she was finally naked in front of him for the first time when she felt the cool air of the room hitting her tender flesh, soothing the throbbing ache between her thighs. If he was affected by the sight, he did nothing to show it, save for his sharp intake of breath and the mutter of " _beautiful_ " she could hear upon his lips.

"Please.." she fairly begged, writing before him impatiently, " _please_ Georg.. don't torture me this way."

"Then tell me-" he commanded, his palm gliding steadily over the smooth skin of her stomach again, "-what you want."

She couldn't even bring herself to hesitate.

"I want your tongue."

"Where?" came his sharp command.

She said nothing, only parting her thighs wider on a whimper and lifting her hips towards him by way of response - and he couldn't stifle his low groan when he saw the glistening evidence of her need for him, mere inches from his face.

"I said _where_.." he choked, the authority in his voice wavering only slightly.

"My womanhood," she rasped as she heard his deep groan of approval, felt the flush creeping up her neck, her heart thundering in her throat. She could've sworn she heard him murmur something along the lines of 'good girl', and then there was nothing but the roar of blood in her ears as the blinding wet heat of his mouth suddenly engulfed her, turning her entire body to liquid molten.

When he'd first done this to her, she'd been startled by the intensity of the pleasure and had almost squirmed away from him in her efforts to escape it. But now, knowing exactly what to expect, she found herself opening eagerly to the fiery trail his tongue was painting against her. And she could tell that he too was less weary of her innocence this time around, for where he'd begun gently, languidly and lovingly last time, this time he was tasting her with a feral hunger that set her blood alight.

 _"Wider_ Maria," he rasped against her, and she complied instantly, shifting her legs further apart in her need for more of him. She thought she might faint under the intensity and she bit on her lip to stifle a cry when she felt his tongue gently pry her open, easing inside her just enough to leave her feeling utterly satisfied and yet entirely bereft. He hadn't done this to her last time and the insistent probing of his tongue left her entire body suddenly aching to be filled far deeper than his mouth could reach. Mere seconds passed under the ministrations and yet the unbearable frustration was enough to send a curse word tumbling from her lips, one that she had heard him use during their past encounters and one that she'd never dreamt she would use herself. She felt the vibrations of his low chuckle all the way inside her then and she burned with mortification, "patience love," he purred against her, "it'll feel better for both of us in the end.."

She could only squirm beneath him by way of response and he must've taken pity on her, for he finally took hold of her hips and blazed his mouth upwards until he was lapping against her tender centre possessively, drawing pleasure from the most sensitive part of her body and forcing her to cry out in desperate relief. Within minutes, she was clawing at the bedding, panting and pleading as the antagonising tension began to build but refused to break. And still he held her there, stubbornly refusing to bring her any higher despite her strangled begging - and she convinced herself that she would surely die from the intensity of it all. A great chasm was surely splitting her soul in two and she mewled in frustration against the bittersweet agony of his advances.

"Georg!" She pleaded with a tortured cry, and then - finally - he acquiesced, bringing the rhythm higher, and she could feel her orgasm coiling deep within her like a blossoming flower, teetering on the brink of the abyss, her entire body taught with the unbearable strain-

And then suddenly, his mouth was gone from her body, and she cried out in dismayed protest - her release slipping away as fast as it had built. Almost instantly her eyes flew open in incredulous desperation, only to find him staring at her, his obsidian gaze churning with uninhibited want.

"Not yet.." he murmured through lips painted glossy, and she threw back her head with a growl desperate frustration, feeling as though she could slapped him for his merciless torment. But then he was pulling himself to a standing position and all anger was immediately eradicated, replaced instead by a sense of enthralment as she watched him rid himself of his clothes. First his tie, achingly slowly while his gaze burned into her.. and then the crisp white shirt, revealing a tanned torso and dark curls.. then his trousers, down the strong pillars of his legs... until - finally - he stood, naked and aroused, before her.

She stared in avid fascination at the male form in front of her - all skin, hair, muscle and man - the broad shoulders she'd so often gripped for support, the solid planes of his chest, the strong bands of his arms, the taught canvas of his abdomen - and she dared her eyes to move lower, drinking in the sight of his unabashed arousal, all satin and steel as it strained swollen and hard towards the trail of hair alighting his stomach. He was surely the epitome of male perfection, and she felt her mouth go dry, her lost release leaving her almost desperate for the friction that she knew his body could provide.

Georg, though composed, was almost painfully aroused himself - but he willed his body to move slowly. He wanted to do this right, after all - to bring her to a state of frenzied need before he took her, so that the pain would be fleeting. He was aware of the precious gift she was offering him and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. With deliberate slowness, he climbed atop her on the bed, distributing soft, open-mouthed kisses along her stomach and breasts as he moved over her and sidled between her thighs, pinning her down with his hips. Greedily, he captured her lips with his own and drew her tongue into his mouth, delighting in her broken sighs of relief and the gentle tug of her fingers in his hair. Tentatively, he hooked his hands behind her knees, encouraging her to raise them until her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he shuddered as he felt the slick open heat of her body brushing against his arousal.

It was then that he pulled back to look at his bride and his breath caught in his throat when she cast him a lazy gaze from under her thick lashes, tinged with both curiosity and desire. He knew then that there would be no need for words, or reassurances, or careless whispers in the next few moments - it was clear from the need in her eyes that she knew exactly what was about to happen and trusted him completely.

His pulse thundering through his veins and his eyes never leaving hers, he slowly eased himself inside her body, shuddering violently at the dangerous sensation of tight, molten heat engulfing the very tip of him. Still, he willed himself to remain in control and immediately halted his movements when he met the resistance of her virginity. He was barely a few inches inside her and yet she was still gasping in his arms and throwing her head back against the pillows, writhing for more of the much-needed friction. But still he wouldn't concede to her wordless pleading.

Instead he started caressing her body, feather soft touches along her collarbone, open-mouthed kisses against her nipples that threatened to consume her - and then there was the fiery trail of his fingertips down her abdomen until they moved lower still, finally grazing a place of liquid fire. There he remained, taunting her with languid, barely-there touches - all the while refusing to enter her any further, until she was almost faint with the unbearable tension once again.

She whimpered in sweet agony as he again suspended her in time and space, and she wondered fleetingly why on earth he wouldn't just give in and join them fully - but she could barely form the words to ask him, and so she lay back helplessly, clinging to him for dear life as the pleasure began to build with alarming intensity. Shaking from the strain, and exercising a world of restraint, Georg drew his hips back and eased the scant few inches back into her again, capturing her cries of frustration with his mouth. When her hips rose slightly off the bed to meet his, he felt her gasp against his mouth at the twinge of discomfort, but his hips retreated almost immediately, denying her the friction she craved. It was still too soon...

" _Patience,_ my darling," he repeated in her ear, his voice thick in his throat, "look at me."

She merely tossed her head from side to side, her face contorted in anguished need.

"Look at me, Maria."

Her eyes flew open and he watched, awestruck as she fought and writhed for her body's desires - and despite his desperate need to fill her entirely, he staved off his own urges - knowing that soon enough, he would recognise in her eyes the exact moment that she would finally be ready for him. He allowed himself a few more slow, shallow thrusts against her, and she kept trying to rise to meet him with every penetration, to sheath him entirely, but like a merciless cad he fell back just enough to deny her. It took all the willpower he possessed to hold himself steady, to prevent himself from driving into her fully and giving her what they both needed. But he forced himself to be patient, to wait until her body was wracked with such intense pleasure that she would barely feel the pain.

And then - finally - her breathing grew desperately ragged, her fingernails clawed at his back, her eyes rolled back in her head, and suddenly she was crying out in twisted ecstasy as he felt a flood of warmth bathing the very tip of him.

 _Now._

He gathered her frantically into his arms and sank into her with one ardent thrust, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go and groaning her name in sweet relief. Almost instantly he could feel the heat of her body contracting and tightening around him as she rode out her release, and the sensation was so intense that for a panic-stricken moment he thought he might spill into her then and there. But much to his relief, the danger passed and he held himself still, breathing hard, intent for now on bringing his new wife to the heights of rapture.

"Oh _god_ I've missed you," he rasped against her lips as he let himself get used to the sensation of finally being inside her, willing himself to love her slowly despite his every nerve burning for release.

"It's only been a week," she whispered, her eyes lazy with pleasure and a little discomfort. She'd felt it vaguely, the sharp stab as he'd joined their bodies, but the blinding ecstasy - coupled with the startling realisation that he was finally inside her - had dulled any real pain. And now she couldn't quite believe that they were finally one - mind, body and soul.

"It felt like a lifetime," he murmured as his hips began a languid rhythm against her, the tenderness she felt giving way to the most wonderful, white-hot friction, a sensation of being stretched and filled - and she knew from the intensity of his gaze as he moved within her that he was talking not so much about their recent separation, but about the long years of loneliness he'd endured before she'd brought him back to life.

She watched the raw love playing out across his face as he lay himself bare to her in those surreal moments and she revelled in such overwhelming intimacy with another human being. Over the last few weeks of their engagement, she'd come to know the man behind the aristocratic mask - and yet it wasn't until this very moment that she felt she was seeing him in his rawest, most vulnerable form for the very first time. And she too was letting herself go, throwing propriety to the wind, just as he'd told her to do in all their previous encounters. But as she arched into his movements, she could tell that he was still holding back, that he was attempting to be gentle so as not to hurt her - and so she began to respond to his thrusts more fervently, crying out her pleasure in a blatant display of encouragement that she knew would loosen his iron control - and before long his languid movements gave way to a primal urgency that had him driving all of his need relentlessly into the place where their bodies were joined.

It was frantic and chaotic and entirely intoxicating, his eyes burning into hers with such raw passion that she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. _To lie with the right man is nothing short of beautiful_ , Baroness Eberfeld had said, and oh how Maria felt it now, pressed as close to her new husband as two people could be, eye to eye and toe to toe, utterly enraptured by one another.

Within minutes she found her wrists were pinned to the sheets under his strong hands but she was far from afraid, welcoming his frantic urgency as he lost himself to her entirely. "You're _mine_ ," he rasped in awe against her mouth, as though he couldn't quite believe the gift he'd been blessed with, "finally."

Nothing else seemed to exist then, apart from the desperate movement of their bodies as they worked in harmony to find sweet relief. And it could have been mere seconds or long hours later when she finally felt him stiffen between her thighs, the muscles of his torso pulled taught across his chest as he threw his head back and cried out her name in ecstasy, the strangled plea sending her soaring into the heights of rapture on a wave of sensation right there with him. Not just as his lover, not just as his heart, not just as his partner in an uncertain future.

But as his wife.

 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N: as always, please do let me know your thoughts! I hope I did it justice but feel free to tell me otherwise!**


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